


Central Park West

by Schizanthus, solidus420



Category: The Greatest Showman (2017)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst with a Happy Ending, Banter, Cameos by almost everyone in the film, Denial of Feelings, Flirting, Fluff, Humor, Intrigue, J Bennett, M/M, Meet-Cute, Mysterious Past, O' Malley, Porn with Feelings, Shameless Smut, barlyle - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-10-17
Updated: 2020-01-03
Packaged: 2020-12-21 01:01:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 16
Words: 20,371
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21066173
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Schizanthus/pseuds/Schizanthus, https://archiveofourown.org/users/solidus420/pseuds/solidus420
Summary: Reclusive film producer P.T. Barnum runs into society page rake Phillip Carlyle while out walking his dog one autumn evening. Or, to be more precise, Phillip's lips ran into Phineas' as part of an eleventh hour escape subterfuge, which rapidly turns into something more when sparks fly. They soon find themselves involved in a new production and relationship, with the shadows of old catastrophes and insecurities ever threatening to pull everything apart before it even begins. 1/3 romcom, 1/3 action movie, 1/3 smut, 100% Barlyle.





	1. Call Me Maybe

**Author's Note:**

> The modern Barlyle AU that would not leave me alone for a year and a half, finally spurred into reality with the invaluable collaboration of my esteemed co-writer, [solidus420](https://archiveofourown.org/users/solidus420).
> 
> Smut chapters will be noted with warnings, so no worries about accidentally getting an eyeful.

At 9PM most evenings, were one to be strolling through New York’s Central Park, they might notice a small scale and very literal re-enactment of _ Julius Caesar _ occuring around them, as dog owners let slip their canine charges to take advantage of off-leash hours. Granted, these four-legged warriors were rarely involved in anything more violent than a yappy bout of wrestling on the grass, but Phillip Carlyle could never help recalling that line whenever he saw it happen. It was exactly what he was counting on now as he raced through the nearest gate into the park, glancing behind him anxiously before quickly sizing up the occupants within walking range. 

Zeroing in on a kind-looking middle-aged man in the company of a large grey wolfhound, Phillip made a beeline for him as the footsteps behind him sounded closer. He slowed his pace upon approach to what he hoped was a less frantic gait and slung one arm casually through the stranger’s, swinging around to face him just as he glimpsed a scowling brute of a man entering the park several yards away and starting to approach them. 

Shooting the stranger his best wide-eyed pleading expression, he murmured, “Just roll with this, okay? I need some help." 

Before the stranger had any time to reply, Phillip then proceeded to plant a kiss full on his mouth. 

“Mmmph?” The man had obviously been lost in thought and barely aware of what was going on around him, so to say he was startled by the sudden intrusion was perhaps an understatement. His eyes followed the direction of Phillip’s quick glances and he seemed to get the measure of the situation pretty quickly. At least until he suddenly found himself on the receiving end of a kiss that made his legs go rubbery. Taking his newly acquired swain by the shoulders, he eased him back while trying not to look like he was pushing him away. 

Momentarily sidetracked from the point of his endeavor, Phillip blinked away the faint wisps of disorientation brought on by that moment of contact, brief but compelling in a way he hadn’t been prepared for. There had been an unexpected jolt of… something. Which was quite inconvenient, coming as it did in the middle of this last ditch attempt to lose the very insistent creep who had followed him out of the bar. 

Clearing his throat, he picked up the thread of his ruse once again. “Sorry I’m late, darling. Didn’t remember to check the time and might have had a few too many drinks.”

The man licked his lips -- thin, but too pliant to be severe, framed by laugh lines that made him appear all the more genial, Phillip observed -- and no doubt tasted the alcohol that had started this entire incident. He didn’t seem to mind. 

“It’s all right. I’ll just call Max and we can go.” He whistled for the dog, who came trotting over to sit at his master’s heel. 

The pursuer hesitated, then backed off, obviously intimidated by the large dog. Surreptitiously peering over his new acquaintance’s -- very nicely-shaped, obviously worked-out -- shoulder, Phillip tracked the retreat with obvious relief. On impulse, he dropped one hand lower, reaching into the dog owner’s back pocket to pluck out his phone -- unlocked. Who even did that? -- and pretend to dial a number. 

“Do you think the restaurant will still keep our reservation?”

“I think you’d better make alternate arrangements,” the phone’s owner replied, obviously not pleased with the continuation of what probably now seemed to be an elaborate con job. He held out his hand for his appropriated phone. 

“That's a shame. I really owe you one for that.” Phillip quirked an eyebrow, looking the man up and down appraisingly, this time more out of genuine interest than desperation. He deftly typed in his number, saving it to contacts before handing the phone back to its owner with a cheeky wink. “Call me if you feel like cashing in that rain check, huh?”

“You have somewhere safe to go? In case that guy comes back, I mean.” The man took his phone back, putting it away without even looking. 

Phillip shrugged off the concern with an amused huff, waving vaguely towards a stately old apartment building a block down, abutting Central Park. “It's all good, I'm almost home. Very gallant of you to ask, though.” 

Without giving himself any time for second thoughts, he darted in to give the man a quick peck on the cheek -- rough and warm, scratchy from a few day’s worth of stubble -- and hastened off down the walk towards home. 

The man watched Phillip’s departing back, figuring him to be some trust fund kid having a lark at his expense, then reached into his inside pocket and took out his flask for a quick drink. Putting the leash back on his dog, he also headed back home, alone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A huge thank you to [BuddysImpala](https://archiveofourown.org/users/BuddysImpala/pseuds/BuddysImpala) for providing [a working soundtrack](https://open.spotify.com/user/brittnichole98/playlist/4hg8A625WktosfGenmJ7n7?si=SQmXbbOmR_C__17HYIUqbQ) for this fic.


	2. Don't Blame Me

The hour was late to the point of early when Phineas Barnum, unable to sleep and having imbibed perhaps more than he should have, lay in bed flipping through photos of his absent family on his phone. His thumb accidentally brushed the contacts button, bringing up an unfamiliar recently-entered number along with a vivid memory of how it came to be there. Feeling weirdly angry and resentful at this intrusion, he pressed the “call” button.

“Mmmm-lo?” The voice on the other end of the line sounded groggy, barely more than a mumble.

“You never even thanked me, you know.”

“What the f…” The words were cut off by a bout of coughing, then a few beats of silence. “Who is this? How'd you get my number?”

“You didn't apologize, either,” Phineas continued, unfazed. “What? Some guy looks at you the wrong way and it's the end of the goddamn world, but you're allowed to walk up to anyone you want and kiss them without asking?”

A despairing groan was his response. “You actually called?!” The voice rose to almost a squeak with that question, obviously surprised. There was another cough. “I mean. Wait. I thanked you! Or I was going to anyway.”

“You didn't. But I guess you did now.” Phineas started to feel a little strange about being on the phone like this; his anger was fading quickly. “It was no problem.”

A tired-sounding sigh. “Look, I'm sorry if what I did made you uncomfortable. If you must know, that guy slipped something in my drink and I was lucky to notice before tossing back the entire thing. Why else would anybody be leaving a bar at that hour?” A pause. “You looked... safe.”

Phineas was quiet for a long time, uncertain what to say. “What's your name?”

“You can call me Phil. Who are you, Mr Hero Who Calls In The Dark Of Night?”

“Phineas,” he said, then sighed. “Look, I'm glad you're all right. I'll let you get back to sleep. Don't worry, I'll delete your number.”

“Whoa, wait! Why would you do that?” 

“You seem nice, but I'm married.” Phineas paused in hesitation. “I mean, I'm basically married.”

More silence. “Ah. Right. Crap. Of course you are. I'm really sorry.”

“Like I said, you seem nice.” Phineas felt suddenly awkward, and surprisingly not good about this at all, even though he was pretty sure he'd done the right thing by saving Phillip from his issues. “Goodnight, kid.”

“Yeah. G'night,” Phillip said, voice tight and quiet, disappointment filtering through. He hung up.

Phineas stared at the phone for a moment, mentally noted that he should delete the number, then decided he would have another drink first. Three drinks after that, the number still remained, forgotten.


	3. Act Naturally

“You look like your dog got run over, Mr. Carlyle. That is to say, more glum than usual. What’s the matter?” 

Phillip’s head snapped up at the interruption, then relaxed again, taking in the familiar willowy figure and smirking face of his best friend and confidante. 

“Your always invaluable opinion is noted, Miss Wheeler,” he said, motioning to the empty overstuffed armchair beside him. “And you’re late.”

Anne waved aside the comment airily. “Shoot ran long. My new photographer takes forever setting up. I knew you’d understand.” She set her chai latte on the side table and sank into the chair gratefully. “But really, you look like crap.”

“Nah, just had a bad night.” Phillip took a long sip of his cappuccino to avoid having to elaborate. “I’m sure you never have those.”

“That would require that I actually have a life outside of work, darling. Speaking of which, you promised to come by and try on some of the new designs. Don’t make me threaten you.”

“Never. You enjoy it far too much. I can drop by this afternoon? Just have to submit some rewrites first.” Phillip gave Anne a placating smile.

“Weren’t those due last week?”

The smile quickly deflated into a grimace. “Yeah, I might have been delaying a bit.” He sighed. “On the off chance that…”

“...they’d see the error of their ways and realize your artistic vision is more important than their profits?” She finished his sentence with a sardonic quirk to her lips.

“Ouch.”

Leaning forward in her chair, she regarded him with one raised eyebrow. “You gonna tell me why it was a bad night?”

“And as if to add insult to injury, she bypasses the attempted deflection.”

Anne made what could only be termed as a delicate snort of amusement. “What, none of the guys at the bar your type?”

“Something like that.” Phillip finished his coffee, then stared down at it as if regretting not getting a bigger cup. 

“Maybe it’s a sign that you should stop looking there.”

“Maybe.”

“Maybe it’s a sign that you should let me fix you up with my friend.”

Phillip’s head popped back up at that. “Nice try, Annie, but that won’t be necessary.”

“I’m just saying. I have wonderful taste. You, not so much. It’s only a step up from letting me dress you.” Anne leaned back in her chair again, spreading her arms in a matter-of-fact shrug.

It was greeted with another deep sigh of defeat. “I’ll think about it, if you stop already. C’mon, let’s do the fittings now. Emailing them a few hours later won’t make a difference anyway.”

Gulping down the rest of her drink, Anne picked up her coat and stood. “No complaints here. If only all my models were as accommodating.”

“Maybe you should be paying me, then,” Phillip suggested, tone halfway between amused and exasperated. Pulling on his own coat, he motioned for her to lead the way. 

“Yeah, right. Your negotiation skills leave much to be desired, but you can have your pick from last show’s sample rack, as always.”

They exited the coffee shop and joined the throng of humanity heading down 7th Avenue, morning disquietudes blown away in the brisk autumn breeze.


	4. Drunk

Phineas stared down in vexation at the embossed card in his hand. A pity invitation, he was certain, to a charity event hosted by an old acquaintance. He didn’t really want to attend and didn’t really think _ they _ wanted him to attend, either, but also didn’t have anything close to a plausible excuse for declining. 

Setting down the drink he’d been nursing to steady his nerves, his third since he had received the summons, he picked up his phone and scrolled through the contacts directory, looking for someone to be his plus one. Nothing promising caught his eye: work acquaintances he’d let fall to the wayside, friends from before the incident, and… he stopped, considering the latest entry. The unnamed number. Phillip. 

With a resigned sigh, he dialed. Surprisingly, he found himself not dreading it as much as he thought he would. 

“Mmmmpf-lo?”

“Do you want to make it up to me? The park, I mean,” Phineas blurted.

“Hi! Park! I mean. Yes?” There was a pause. “Wait. This is basically married Phineas, right?”

“Basically, yeah,” Phineas said, voice getting a little hoarse. “But I need you to come with me for a couple hours tomorrow night and just... act normal.”

Another hesitating silence. “Okay... yeah, man, if I can help. Sure. Of course.”

“Thanks, I appreciate it. I'll send you the information.”

“Right. Fine.” After a bit, Phillip added, “Hey, you okay?”

“Never better. See you tomorrow.”

“Yeah. See you.” Despite not saying anything more, Phillip did not hang up. 

Clicking the disconnect button quickly, Phineas was disconcerted to find that his heart was beating so hard. 


	5. Bad Reputation

Catching his reflection in the elevator mirror, Phillip tightened the knot of his bowtie and fussily ruffled his hair just a tiny bit more before checking his phone for the tenth time. He stepped into the lobby and glanced out the plate glass window expectantly, despite being unsure what to look for. 

A sleek black Mercedes sedan pulled up in front of the building and the uniformed driver slid out. Entering the building at a jaunty clip, he found the objective of his mission immediately. 

“Right, come with me, then,” the driver said in a gruff Irish accent. His driver’s cap was perched at a raffish angle and he gave Phillip a quick once-over with knowing eyes before escorting him back to the waiting vehicle. 

As Phillip slipped into the back seat, he couldn’t help but notice that Phineas’ posture seemed stiff and aloof, more like he was attending a business presentation than a party.

“Nice,” he said, giving Phineas a friendly nod of greeting. “I wasn’t sure if you were going to show up in a limo or a horse carriage, your text was so vague.”

“Glad you managed to dress the part,” Phineas replied, glancing his way for just a moment but seeming to take his measure all the same. 

“Playing a part has never been the problem,” Phillip admitted with a shrug. “You clean up pretty nicely as well. Not that the rugged stubble didn't suit you.”

“I could have guessed that about you. Thank you again for coming with me. I know these things are a chore. We don't have to stay long at all.”

Phillip nodded agreeably, still not certain what all the fuss about a school friend's party was. “Nah, it's the least I could do. Change of pace from my usual haunts, anyway.”

“Your drink should be safer, at any rate,” Phineas countered, realizing perhaps a second too late how Phillip might interpret that. He might find it callous, or cruel.

“I never doubted that,” Phillip acceded with a small inward smile. He glanced out the window as the car slowed and bright flashes of light popped up ahead. “Looks like we got caught in a jam behind another one of those yawn-inducing galas.”

Phineas leaned forward to speak to the driver briefly, before announcing, “It shouldn't be long.”

A few moments later, the car pulled up outside the east entrance of the natural history museum, its extravagant Beaux-Arts facade lit by spotlights and hung with charity banners. A dissonant mob of media vultures jostled behind the cordons, armed with voice recorders and high definition lenses, as they awaited their prey on either side of the perron leading to the entrance. This was clearly not the small class reunion that Phillip had been expecting. Phineas stepped out, keeping his head down to avoid the cameras lining the red carpet and motioning for Phillip to do likewise. 

Phillip froze just shy of exiting the car door. “Christ, this is _ your _ yawn-inducing gala?” he hissed loudly. 

“I'm just here to catch up with some old friends. Let's get through this mess quickly.” Phineas took Phillip’s arm, pulling him along as he barged past the cameras, heading for the front doors. 

“Riiiight. Good idea.” Phillip ducked his head down and raised his jacket lapels to obscure himself, casually speed-walking by while keeping as close behind Phineas as possible.

The entrance led directly into a lofty rotunda, left unadorned beyond its intrinsically lavish Romanesque design, so as to not distract from the venue’s true ornamentation -- its glitzy guest list. Once they got inside and away from the press, Phineas seemed to relax a little and started cautiously working the room, even acknowledging some of the people who looked towards them and whispered, as if he had expected to be recognized. Phillip, however, nervously tried to avoid making eye contact with anyone he knew, realizing that a good portion of the city's society pages were present. 

“This isn't that animal welfare thing is it?”

“What are you talking about?” Phineas was obviously distracted. “I'm going to get a drink. Want something?”

“Yes,” Phillip replied emphatically. He dodged behind Phineas as he saw his godparents enter. “Something very strong, please.”

“Wait here.” 

\--

Getting into line behind a couple who looked like they had wandered off from the front rows at Fashion Week, Phineas perused the bar’s stock. Despite pointedly trying to mind his own business, he couldn’t help but overhear snatches of their conversation. They were gossiping about… could it be? He listened a while longer, then looked back across the room to Phillip, whose wide blue eyes apprehensively met his for a moment. Yes, now that they mentioned it, Phineas _ did _ recognize that face from the tabloids.

As he watched, Phillip appeared to retreat towards a large pillar, only to be waylaid by an impeccably-coifed young man in a trim burgundy tuxedo. The new arrival immediately started conversing with him in the most familiar and animated manner. Despite looking not unlike a cornered animal, Phillip gave him a forced smile and nodded along as his new companion chattered. 

Phineas dropped onto a stool at the bar, feeling like an absolute idiot. He ordered himself a stiff drink, shoulders slumped and confidence shaken. 

\--

With growing anxiety, Phillip glanced around for his date. His urgency ratcheted up another notch upon noticing a video camera crew making its way over. Making hasty excuses to his former classmate, he headed over to the bar in search of Phineas or whiskey, whichever should present itself first.

As luck would have it, both of his targets were conveniently to be found in one gloomy-looking package. Leaning against the bar and looking for all intents and purposes as if he had grown roots for the evening, Phineas gave Phillip a chilly look when he spotted him approaching. 

“Bored already?”

“Bored…? Phillip repeated, taken aback by his sudden standoffishness. “You told me to wait there then never came back.” He glanced at the half empty bottle and shot glass next to Phin. “Got distracted?”

Before he could continue his line of questioning, however, a finger tapped on Phillip’s shoulder, causing him to start and recoil in surprise. Having been too focused on this strange new development with Phineas, he hadn’t noticed the hawkish-looking woman in spectacles and a bowler hat fascinator who now stood next to him, shoving a microphone into his face. Recovering quickly, he pasted on a dissembling smile and greeted her.

“Why hello, Miss Bennett. On the hunt for sound bites to savage in your show, I see.”

The reporter managed to both purse her lips and smile smugly, in a manner that much resembled the conformation of feline posterior.

“I am simply here to cover notable events and give my own unbiased reviews of both the proceedings and the personages involved, Mr. Carlyle. Care to tell my viewers how you came to be in attendance with Mr. Barnum over there? I was given to understand that he didn't show up much in public anymore...” 

Phineas tensed up, looking from one person to the other, seeming both ready to bolt and reluctant to be seen running away.

“...and that your parents had asked _ you _ not to make any more appearances after the last charity event ended in…”

“Wait... did you say Barnum?” Phillip cut in loudly, momentarily forgetting to self-modulate from shock. “As in…” He whirled around and stared at Phineas in confusion. “Ohshit.”

Eyes narrowing, Phineas got up and took Phillip’s arm, decisively drawing him away from the reporters. “Didn't you ever learn how to plead the fifth, kid?” he muttered, leading them away rapidly. 

Phillip stumbled along, still gaping. “P.T. Barnum! You're him! I loved the film you made about the boy band that records a song that makes people kill themselves. No one believes me when I tell them how great it is. But it's got this kind of pathos. It was like nothing I'd ever... Hey, did you know there’s a Reddit thread arguing that you died and got replaced by a clone--" His words came to a halt when they arrived in a small alcove and Phineas let go of his arm, thrusting him backwards.

“You…” Phineas looked away, already seeming intent on leaving that very minute. “You can take the car. I'll find my own way home.”

“What? No, wait, what's wrong?” Phillip protested, brow furrowed. He put a hand on Phineas' arm to keep him from moving. “I know you hate these parties too, but you've been strange all night.”

“No offense, but you've known me for about ten minutes total.”

A snort of chagrin. “Not for lack of trying. I'm not the one pulling the mysterious loner act.”

“Is that so?” Phineas turned to face him again with an accusatory look. “When were you planning on telling me that showing up with you is social poison?”

Phillip shrunk back as if slapped. “You said we were going to your friend's event. I didn't think you meant... this.” A bit resentfully, he added, “What, were you expecting me to smile vacantly and parrot the same trite platitudes that everyone else here does?”

“I was expecting you to last five minutes without embarrassing us both.” Phineas bit back his next words, as if struggling to control himself. His voice grew quiet. “If you had any idea how hard this was for me…”

Hearing the change in tone, Phillip swallowed his own retort. After a moment of deliberation, he offered, “I would have liked to have had the chance to get an idea, before you came to your own conclusions. It's okay, though, at least being a disappointment is familiar territory.”

Phineas stared at him for a long moment, his expression betraying nothing. At last he muttered, “Come on. We shouldn't stay here.” He stuffed his hands in his pockets so as not to betray that they were shaking slightly.

“Care to take the path less frequented?” Phillip nodded toward the service entrance just down the hall, through which a harried-looking waiter carrying a tray of hors d'oeuvres now issued. 

“Please.”


	6. I Think He Knows

The service corridor they left by led out to a dimly lit alley flanked by high brick walls, an attempt to camouflage where two wings of the museum from disparate centuries met at a rather unsightly architectural junction. The chill in the air had grown more pronounced over the course of the evening and there was little in the way of shelter, aside from two large dumpsters. 

Shifting from one foot to another as they stood on the curb waiting for Phineas’ car to arrive, Phillip finally broke the silence. “Hey, I still owe you a thank you dinner. Half a bottle of whiskey hardly counts as a meal.”

“Are you hungry?” Phineas moved closer to him, shivering a little. Neither of them had had the foresight to retrieve their coats from the checkroom. 

“Very. Those little salmon pancake things were dismal.” Phillip glanced down the street in both directions, looking a bit concerned. “I think your driver is lost.”

“He'll be here in a minute.” Feeling better outside the confines of the gala and back where he could breathe fresh air, Phineas slipped an arm around Phillip to keep him from getting too cold. 

Phillip halted his fidgeting, as if surprised by the gesture. “Hmm. I guess we can wait for a minute.” An involuntary shiver ran down his back, most definitely not from the cold. 

They stood there, huddled quietly for the next few minutes, until the car finally appeared around the corner. Ushering Phillip in first, Phineas paused to speak to the driver before climbing in the back after him. 

Emboldened by the tentative truce they seemed to have reached, Phillip inched over on the cushioned leather seat until they were sitting side by side, legs brushing. “Why bother coming if it was so difficult and you weren't going to stay? If you don't mind my asking,” he ventured.

"It was the first invitation I'd gotten in... hell, I don't remember. I thought maybe it was time to give it another go. Money doesn't hold out forever. I thought I'd put myself back out there, see if anyone is in the market for a hack to direct the Redbox rip-off of their movie about a board game.”

A small, if perplexed, nod. “Ah. That go okay?”

“We'll see in the morning, I guess.”

“I hope you find what you were looking for.” Although he refrained from prodding, it was clear that Phillip was curious to learn more about the clandestine activities of his new friend. “So what's for dinner?”

“I asked the driver for a recommendation. Doesn't matter much to me. I like anything.”

“Looks like anything is a pizza place called Tino’s. Your driver is a man of refined taste, I see.”

“You're not going to get snobby on me now, are you?”

“I didn't actually say I didn't like pizza, did I?” Punching Phineas' arm playfully, Phillip clambered out of the car on his side as they came to a stop. “Hey look, they even do stuffed crusts!”

With a tiny smile, Phineas followed him inside. The hostess promptly showed them to a private booth in the back, a snug capsule of overstuffed maroon vinyl seating panelled in dark wood and lit by nothing but a single flickering tea candle. 

“This is a little more intimate than I was expecting…” 

Phillip slid in and contentedly accepted a greasy laminated menu from the hostess. “You'd rather be in plain sight at one of the sidewalk tables after tonight?”

“You let me worry about that,” Phineas replied. He then ordered a bottle of the restaurant’s strongest Shiraz before the hostess could get away.

They perused the menu in silence for a few moments until the wine arrived. Without even noting the label, Phillip poured two very full glasses and pushed one over to Phineas. “You sound like you have enough worries without going for a bonus round.”

“I bring it on myself, mostly. So don't go thinking I'm something I'm not.”

“Alas, my illusions are shattered.” Taking a slow sip, Phillip watched Phineas over the brim of his glass closely. “They say it takes one to know one.”

Phineas inclined his head slightly, taking the point. “Maybe. I've heard about you, and all your grand adventures. You haven't done anything you can't come back from, though.”

“Yeah, try explaining that to my family,” Phillip muttered. He perked up when the waitress arrived for their orders. “The one with everything, cheese crust, please.”

After they were alone again, Phineas continued. “Sorry for presuming. I guess I wouldn't know.” Having lost his parents at a young age, it was just one of many situations that he’d never had the chance to encounter. 

“I find it hard to believe someone who can make such extraordinary films could be beyond redemption.”

A deep chuckle. “Oh, please. You don't have to lay it on so thick, kid.”

“I'm serious! I'd love to create a cult classic that people go to see again and again at late night screenings. Do you know how many times I get asked who I hired to ghostwrite my scripts? Any effort I make is automatically a vanity project that someone was bribed to look at.”

This finally made Phineas pause and consider, the gears turning in his head. “That's right. You did make some movies, didn't you?”

“Well, I wrote a version, anyway. You know how it is, after they've sent it through three script doctors and the production threshing mill. Something vaguely similar that test audiences liked and that was considered more suitable for distribution comes out at the end with your name on it.”

“Sounds like you need a more understanding producer,” Phineas offered, lowering his voice a notch. 

A derisive snort was his response. “Those are about as rare as unicorns.”

Taking another drink of his wine, Phineas reached over and set his hand over Phillip's. “Tell me about what you would write, if there was no one to interfere.”

Phillip shrugged, attention only partially on the conversation once their fingers touched. “You know, I'm not even sure anymore? At some point it became easier to just agree and use the royalties to acquaint myself with every bar and club in the city.”

“Hope you remember someday,” Phineas murmured. He stroked Phillip's wrist, not even bothering with subtlety.

“It’s… a nice sentiment,” Phillip just managed to answer, trying to remember to breathe. He felt halfway hypnotized by the close surroundings and Phineas' intent gaze, warm as brandy and twice as intoxicating. 

While Phineas felt slightly guilty, with Phillip looking at him like that, he justified it by telling himself that Phillip was making it far too easy. “Let's get this food to go. What do you think?”

His only answer for a while was a few blinks and silence; Phillip seemed to have completely forgotten about the pizza. “Ummm. Yeah? Yes. Sure.”

Polishing off his wine, Phineas handed the waitress his credit card, trying not to think about how close to the spending limit he already was. At least he would be taking home leftovers. 


	7. A.M.

Just seconds after leaving the restaurant, a soft yipping caught their attention. Phineas took a few steps forward into an adjacent alleyway and following the sound to a tangled pile of stray puppies playing in some discarded pizza cartons. Purebred New York street mutt, judging from the motley assortment of colors and features they exhibited. 

Coming up behind Phineas to see what had caught his attention, Phillip’s face lit up at the sight. “Are those…?” Before he could get a response, he had already flitted over and sat himself down on the alley pavement, pulling puppies into his lap and looking up at Phineas with an expression of astonished delight. 

“A dog person, I see.” Phineas hesitated for a second, then walked over and opened up his leftover pizza carton. He -- or his offering, at least -- was immediately met with a swarm of exuberantly wagging tails and wet noses. 

Grabbing a sturdy-looking tomato crate from beside the garbage bin, Phillip shrugged off his designer dinner jacket and used it to line the inside, then started putting puppies into it. “Lend me a hand? They're wiggly.”

“Their mother might be around here somewhere…” 

Phillip looked up at him, frowning. “We can't just leave them here.”

“If one good thing came from that gala tonight, it's that we have a lead on a pretty good shelter. I'll give them a call tomorrow.”

After a prolonged internal struggle, Phillip set the crate back down. “...okay. But only because I don't want to separate a family.” Reluctantly, he tucked the box in a sheltered corner by the back steps and arranged the jacket over the puppies to keep them warm. 

“Don't you watch any of those cat rescue videos on YouTube? They'll be fine.” Phineas left the rest of his pizza, then straightened up to wrap Phillip in his arms. “You'll freeze like that.”

Although he shook his head in disagreement, Phillip’s teeth began to chatter. He thankfully pressed closer to Phineas, drawn as much by the note of concern in his voice as the promise of shared body heat. “J-just need to get in the car and it's all good.”

Phineas led them to the curb just as his car pulled up, and tumbled them into the back seat, quickly shutting the door behind him. 

“Hmm. Much better.” Phillip shuddered, though the heated car was rapidly bringing feeling back to his cold-numbed fingers. He wasn’t in any hurry to move, however -- his current position, pressed back into the soft leather seat by Phineas’ weight, was not at all objectionable. 

“You sure you don't need a little more?” Phineas whispered, holding Phillip's hands between his.

Staring down at Phineas' hands -- good hands, his mind supplied, callused and scarred from years of labor -- Phillip struggled to remember through a growing fog of desire why this wasn’t an exceedingly pleasant turn of events that shouldn’t be seen through to its inevitable conclusion. There was something, he was certain. Something about those hands. “No ring...?” he breathed, half to himself.

Phineas took a moment to realize what Phillip was talking about, but when he did, he pulled away hastily, suddenly ashamed of how much he had enjoyed flirting. “I'll take you home,” he muttered quietly.

“If you want…” Phillip agreed, though he had never been more confused by so many conflicting signals.

Cued by a tap on the smoked glass divider, O'Malley started driving. Phineas sat back, no longer looking in Phillip’s direction. “Sorry, kid. I was using you. For your money, I guess. But you don't deserve that, and it turns out I don't have the balls to go through with it.”

Biting his lower lip, Phillip stared at his own hands now, a new dread seeping into his veins colder than anything the autumn winds could have brought. “You don't mean that.”

“Yeah, I do. From the second I found out who you really are.”

The cold sank like a lump in his stomach, leaden and unbearable, eating away at his arguments even as he made them. “You know plenty of people with funds. You wouldn't have been at that party tonight if you didn't.”

“I'm not a bad person,” Phineas explained -- he very much wanted to believe that, but he didn’t feel so sure at that very moment. “I didn't lie to you about being married. I am... I mean, I was.”

Phillip’s head shot up again, startled. “Oh God, I… I’m sorry. Every time I think I can't make things worse…”

“You're wonderful,” Phineas placated with sincerity. “You've been wonderful to me tonight.”

“I was only telling the truth,” Phillip whispered. The kind words stung more than the rebuff, coming as they did after the simple facts of Phineas’ circumstances. Facts too plain to argue around. “Nobody ever seems to expect that.”

A wan smile. “Yeah, you're a good kid.”

As the car approached the apartment building, Phillip’s inner turmoil grew. The thought of everything coming to an end so suddenly was too much to tolerate. Whether it was from the wine or the frayed nerves or just a desire to prove Phineas right, the idea blurted out before he even knew he had formed it. “You can have it, you know. The money, I mean. You could have just asked.”

“I don't think I'd know what to do with it anymore.” They got out, some wayward vestige of chivalry, perhaps due to Phillip’s lack of a jacket, compelling Phineas to walk him to the door. 

“Ah. That makes two of us,” Phillip conceded. He dawdled at the door, then decided he had nothing to lose. “Hey, do you want to come up? No funny business, just coffee and company. It's almost 2am so you'd just call me when you get home anyway.”

Phineas hesitated, clearly about to say no. The thought of returning to an empty apartment, however, didn’t seem particularly appealing. “...all right. Just for a while. I have to get back and feed the dog.”

Just mentioning the dog seemed to break some sort of tension; Phillip chuckled quietly, thinking of him. “How do you think Max would feel about you adopting one of those pizza puppies?” He punched the button for the penthouse as they got in the elevator.

“He doesn't take after me. He's a laid back sort of fellow.” Phineas found himself unexpectedly charmed that Phillip remembered his dog's name.

“Maybe I'll send him delivery pizza tomorrow instead, since you still haven't used your thank you dinner. He was the one that really saved me anyway.”

They entered the apartment. Motion sensors snapped on wall sconces and track lighting along their path to the kitchen, revealing glimpses of high ceilings, crown molding, and large expanses of gleaming but unfurnished mahogany floor in their wake. 

“That's true. We'd both be lost without him.” Phineas paused in the kitchen doorway, and watched Phillip rather brazenly.

The attention went unseen, as Phillip busied himself with the espresso machine and steamer for the next several minutes before bringing over two lattes sprinkled with chocolate. Sitting down, he nodded at the steaming drinks. “It's a hot chocolate sort of night.”

“Is that an eventful night?” 

“Not overly so,” Phillip answered, sipping his own mug and considering. “But for some reason, I feel like I've been run over repeatedly by a train. It usually takes a lot more than a few glasses of wine for me to get to that stage.”

“I know what you mean. You sure have a way of putting me through my paces.” Phineas wrapped his hands around his cup, warming them and breathing in the aromatic steam. “Why'd you agree to come out, anyway? I assumed you wouldn't, and then I'd have an excuse.”

A deep shrug was Phillip’s answer; he took a long sip while he thought. “I guess... you just sounded like you needed a friend.”

Phineas raised at skeptical brow. “I could have been a creep. Sometimes people are all alone because they deserve it.”

“No creep gives their pony-sized dog ear scritches and gets that look of devotion,” Phillip answered with certainty. “I knew you were safe.”

“Good information to have,” Phineas mused. “So, where do we go from here?”

“I have no idea, but I'd still like to be your friend if you need one.”

“I don't know if I need one. I guess I've never really had a lot of friends, exactly.” Phineas paused, then added, “But I'll give it a shot with you.”

Finishing up his drink, Phillip held out his hand as if to seal the deal, cracking a genuine smile for the first time that night. “Sounds good to me.”

A moment of suspended time as their eyes locked, then Phineas took his hand, and held it. 

Another moment passed. Instead of letting go, Phillip threaded their fingers together, giving them a light squeeze. “Do you have to head home?”

“I suppose it depends on what happens if I stay.” A tug on the hand still intertwined with his, meaning unspoken but clear. 

Phillip moved over to the stool beside Phineas, perhaps a few inches closer than strictly necessary to be companionable. He leaned in slightly, maintaining just enough space to extract himself at the first sign of hesitation. “Only as much as you want to happen.”

“What I want to happen should be pretty obvious by now,” Phineas intoned, dropping his hand to Phillip's knee.

With no ulterior motives, no looming threats, and all the evening left before them, the next step felt as if it were already scripted. A soft intake of breath, his stomach fluttering wildly as he closed the remaining space between them, and Phillip kissed Phineas, again, for the first time.


	8. Wildest Dreams

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: Here There Be Smut. Literally, that's all there is here. You have been warned.

For a few seconds, they were motionless, nothing touching but the barest graze of lips and noses. Then, just as Phillip was about to pull away, Phineas kissed back. His hands moved down to Phillip's waist, pulling him closer as he stood. Phillip stumbled to his feet, chasing after that enticing mouth and winding his arms around Phineas’ neck as he deepened the kiss. Their first encounter had been an act of panic, hardly allowing for anything but the barest twinge of interest. He was determined not to take this chance for granted.

Eventually, heart pounding and breathing hard, Phineas surfaced for air. His fingers played with Phillip’s loosened silk bow tie, holding the ends so that he couldn’t slip away. “Somehow I find myself desperate to impress you,” he admitted. “So how does a young man born with a silver spoon in his mouth like it?”

Occupied as he was with nuzzling Phineas’ neck and licking at the racing pulse point he’d found there, Phillip took a long moment to parse the question. “Hmmm? You impressed me long before we ever met.” He ran his hands down Phineas' back, feeling the muscles shift and tense under the thin fabric of his dress shirt, then reached the area above his belt and stroked it suggestively. “But if it's my mouth you're worried about, why not put something else in it?”

The heated way Phillip was looking at him gave Phineas plenty of ideas. Sliding a hand up the back of Phillip’s neck, fingers tangling in his hair, he gave it a sharp tug. “Best be careful what you wish for…”

“Yesss…” Phillip gasped, surprised by the rush of excitement rough handling seemed to bring about. His scrabbling fingers set to undoing the buckle of Phineas' belt in earnest. They were just as quickly arrested from their intent when Phineas caught his wrists, pinning them together and lifting them away. 

“Not like that.” Phineas used the hold he had on Phillip's hair to guide him down onto his knees. “Use your mouth.”

Biting back a low whine of impatience at being thwarted from his prize, Phillip bent down and set to work, prizing the latch open with the notably nimble tip of his tongue after a few attempts. Taking one edge of the leather strap in his teeth, he deftly yanked the rest of the belt off with a flick of his head, leaving it to slide to the ground as he looked up for some sign of approval. 

“Not bad,” Phineas said, impressed. “You can do the rest.”

He didn’t need to be told twice. The wool suit trousers thankfully unclasped with minimal tugging and biting, allowing Phillip to finally lave a long, wet stripe up the center of the soft fabric underneath.

Phineas sucked in a sharp breath, but managed to maintain his composure. “Well? Don't just look at it.”

Composure was the last thing on Phillip’s mind at that point. He nipped at the elastic until it pulled down enough to allow the heated member to spring free, half hard and already more sizable than any he had confronted during fumbling encounters in dark school dormitories. The sight made his own trousers feel uncomfortably tight. Licking up one side, he traced the largest vein with his tongue until reaching the tip, engulfed it and continued swirling teasingly with his tongue.

Using the ball of his thumb to ease Phillip's lips further apart, Phineas slipped the digit inside his warm wet mouth for a second, then gave his hair a tug, pushing him further down the shaft. Taking the hint, Phillip eased down slowly until it hit the back of his throat. After a small pause to breathe deeply through his nose and relax, he swallowed, taking Phineas in as deeply as he could.

“Shit, kid…” Phineas couldn’t remember the last time he had felt this hard. Taking care not to thrust too forcefully, he slid out and back in, watching his slick length disappear into Phillip’s welcoming mouth.

Bobbing carefully up and down a few times until he got the hang of it, Phillip dove again, this time with a feeling of triumph as his nose brushed Phineas’ lower abdomen. The sheer girth forced his jaw to ache pleasantly and he swallowed hard a few times, feeling his throat contract around the substantial shaft, before pulling back and resuming a more rhythmic suction.

Phineas tightened his hand in Phillip’s tousled hair, soft waves slipping over and under his fingers. His cock strained urgently and he had the feeling it was going to be over far too quickly at this rate. With no small effort, he eased Phillip back so he could catch his breath. “Tell me you like that…” he panted. 

Whimpering at the involuntary separation, Phillip licked his lips and looked up pleadingly. “Yes. I do. Please.” He didn’t seem fully conscious that he was grinding himself against Phineas’ leg, focused as he was on his task. 

“I wouldn't want to end the show without a proper final act. Do you have something we can use in the bedroom, or shall we improvise?”

It took a few moments for Phillip to focus on the words, but then he nodded eagerly and tilted his head to the left to indicate the staircase leading upstairs to the bedrooms. “My nightstand. Black bottle.”

“Does this call for a scene change? Or should I just bend you over the kitchen table?” Phineas pulled Phillip up onto rather unsteady feet. He set one large hand deliberately over Phillip's crotch, feeling his erection through his trousers. 

Phillip bucked into Phineas’ hand, eyes widening as various imaginary scenarios played out in his mind. He shook his head in frustration. “Don't care. Please, want you.”

“In that case…” 

Adjusting himself back into his clothes, Phineas scooped Phillip off his feet in a single smooth motion, deceptively strong under his fancy evening clothes. Phillip let out a small yelp at the sudden movement, clinging to his arm as they made their way upstairs. 

The bedroom, like the rest of the apartment, was tastefully decorated in a seamless blend of classic pre-war elegance and the latest modern conveniences. “Nice. You bring a lot of guests up here?”

Phillip shook his head as he was set down, voice quiet and serious. “You're the first.”

This revelation caused Phineas to pause, fun slightly dampened as he realized the significance of those words. “Kid... you sure you're not drunk?”

“Not drunk. Takes more than wine for that.” Phillip pressed himself against Phineas, craving more contact. “Please.” 

“All right,” Phineas said slowly, trying to think things through. He ran a shaky hand back through his hair as he settled on a course of action. “Get undressed if you want it so bad.”

The remains of Phillip’s evening ensemble, pieces already having been scattered across the city over the course of the evening, were rapidly peeled off and left in a heap on the floor. Phineas watched in silent anticipation, turning over the bottle of oil in his hands. As the last sock was thrown into the corner, he stepped forward, taking Phillip by the throat with tender violence and sending him splaying backwards onto the mattress. Crawling onto the bed after him, Phineas pushed him down into the sheets, holding him in place with one hand while giving him the oil with the other. Loosening his trousers again, he tugged his cock free.

“God, you're gorgeous,” Phillip sighed, staring wantonly as he snapped open the lid and hastily prepped himself. He reached out a slick hand to grasp Phineas, coating him and coaxing him back to attention. 

“Takes one to know one.” Phineas stroked Phillip's cheek and tilted his chin to the side to admire him in the soft lighting. 

Phillip’s breath caught at the unexpected response, and he pulled Phineas down for another kiss, emboldened. “Need you…”

“Yeah…” Phineas replied hoarsely. He nudged Phillip's legs apart with his knees, positioning himself. 

Trembling, the cool air on his overheated skin almost too much to bear, Phillip stroked the strong lines of Phineas' shoulders encouragingly. Phineas hooked an arm behind Phillip's knee, pushing his leg back so that his hips angled up, and thrust in with a single hard plunge.

Breathing shallowly, Phillip struggled to adjust to the welcome invasion, the painful stretch burning away to a dull throb as Phineas took him in slow, steady strokes. 

“Just keep telling me what you like,” Phineas coaxed. 

A liquid moan was Phillip’s immediate response, free leg hooking around the back of Phineas’ thigh to keep him close. “Yes. Good. More. Please,” he panted with every upwards heave, sentences nothing but a distant memory.

Phineas pushed Phillip's leg all the way up against his chest, enjoying the yielding flexibility as he thrust in deeper with the new angle. 

Phillip keened and arched up to meet him, the feeling of liquid fire running through his veins. “Oh God... so much... Yes! There!”

“I'm going to…” Continuing to hit that spot inside him, Phineas seized Phillip by the hair again and kissed him roughly.

“Yes, want to feel you…” Phillip gasped for breath, closing in on his own release with every overpowering surge, fingers digging into the planes of Phineas’ back. 

Groaning against Phillip's mouth, Phineas came inside him, shivers running through his body. Shuddering at the sensation of being filled to the brim, Phillip’s hips stuttered from their rhythm and locked as his release hit moments after.

Relaxing slowly, Phineas untangled his hand from Phillip's hair, stroking it back from his brow with a new gentleness. “That was something…”

“ _ You're _ something,” Phillip responded with a small huff of laughter, a languid smile remaining afterwards as he gazed back at Phineas with something close to adoration. 

Moving off of him, Phineas offered a brief kiss before ducking into the bathroom to find a towel. “Is this one okay to use? It's not for guests or anything, is it?” He poked his head back out, holding up the item in question. 

Phillip waved a hand dismissively. “Take them all.”

“We'll save the rest for round two.” Phineas winked at Phillip as he cleaned them up.

“Talent and stamina,” Phillip hummed contentedly. “You're never allowed to leave now.”

“I didn't say I was ready to go again quite yet.” Phineas chuckled, tossing the towel aside. He stripped off his clothes, not wanting Phillip to think he had anything to hide.

“Hmmm. S'late. Stay.” Pulling up the covers, Phillip offered the spot next to him. 

Phineas paused again, taking in the moment, then got in bed. Phillip immediately curled up against his bare chest with a happy sigh, rapidly drifting off. A bit surprised by the open affection, Phineas stroked Phillip’s back, listening to the soft, even sounds of a peaceful sleep that he had only previously been known to disturb, not encourage.


	9. No Control

Awake early the next morning, as was his habit, Phineas couldn’t help but feel a little pensive about what had happened the night before. He rummaged through the closet, pulled on a robe, and went to start breakfast while Phillip was still asleep. There wasn’t much to eat in the kitchen -- obviously the place was kept more for show than for function. The contents of Phillip’s refrigerator bore a suspicious similarity to Phineas’ own whenever he made the decision that this time, without fail, he was going to start cooking for himself. Fortunately, it seemed that he had caught Phillip before the inevitable second stage, when all the carefully purchased food went to waste, and so Phineas managed to gather enough ingredients to start some simple omelets.

Ten minutes later, with the aroma of coffee wafting through the apartment like a siren’s song and his pan poised at the ready to do a deft flip, Phineas heard a shuffling sound at the doorway. His heart skipped a beat when he looked up to see Phillip standing there, wearing only a rumpled dress shirt with a back hem that ended just short of his knees. 

“Good morning,” Phineas said, picking up a steaming cup of coffee from the counter and bringing it over to Phillip. “A shame, I would have brought it to you in bed if you'd waited a little longer.”

Running a hand through his hair in a decidedly unsuccessful attempt to get it to behave, Phillip gratefully accepted the offered cup. “Thanks. You're a morning person. How can you be up so late each night and be a morning person?”

“Never needed much sleep. I get a lot done, but too much of it is thinking about things I shouldn't.” Phineas let his gaze linger a second longer before returning to his pan on the stove. “How'd you sleep?”

Phillip pulled up a stool. “Better than I have in a long time, thanks. You might have a new calling as an electric blanket. How about you?” He watched Phineas over the rim of his coffee cup, clearly appreciating how the thin jersey robe fabric outlined the more shapely parts of his form. 

“Not bad.” Plating up the omelet, Phineas passed it over with a flourish. “Eat up.”

Regarding the plate with the same sort of curiosity that one might give an exotic new museum exhibit, Phillip turned the plate around clockwise, observing it from all angles before venturing to take a small bite. His eyebrows rose a bit in surprise. "Huh. That's actually... really good. You have many hidden talents."

"I have to," quipped Phineas, returning to the stove to start his own food in the same pan. "If I want to impress someone like you."

A snort of derision. “Among the people from that gala? Knowing how to drive a car by yourself would be impressive.” Phillip worked his way through the plate with surprising speed, not having realized how hungry he was until food magically appeared before him. “I can't believe this was in my fridge.”

“I can even drive stick,” Phineas said. He motioned to his own plate. “More?” 

Without waiting for an answer, he transferred his own omelet to Phillip’s empty plate. Turning off the heat, he tidied up briskly with the towel he’d had tucked into his waistband. “Listen, I have to go soon. Got some things to take care of.” 

His statement was greeted with a sound of protest from Phillip, who then glanced at the clock on the oven and quieted. “Right, I’ve already kept you for far too long. I apologize in advance for any property destruction Max might have wreaked overnight.”

Phineas put down the towel and leaned over, running his hand down the front of Phillip’s shirt. Phillip followed the movement with his eyes, skin starting to prickle just from the light touch. They both seemed about to say something, but Phineas did first. “As much as I like looking at you in it, I'm going to need this back. Finish your breakfast first.” He picked up the empty coffee cups and took them to the sink. 

Glancing down at the shirt, Phillip felt his face grow warm from embarrassment. “Sorry about that. It was the first one I found.” To keep himself from saying anything further, he concentrated on wolfing down the rest of the omelet, then gave Phineas an affectionate thank-you peck on the cheek before disappearing back into the bedroom to change.

After he had washed the last few dishes and returned the kitchen to its previous state of immaculate dormancy, Phineas headed back to the bedroom, walking in just in time to catch a glimpse of Phillip's pretty back before a tailored blue shirt obscured his view. Phineas hesitated a second, then walked up behind him, putting a hand on the small of his back. “You're not sore today, are you? Maybe I was less than a gentleman…”

Turning around, Phillip gave him a strange look. “Nobody's ever…” He coughed. “I'm fine. You were everything I could have hoped for. I'd be lying if I said I wasn't going to be feeling it for the next few days, but it was worth it.”

“You're a tough kid,” Phineas teased. He had guessed Phillip did this a lot, and now his guess was as good as confirmed. It was best not to push any harder for the moment. He started collecting his own clothes. “I'll call you, all right?”

“Please do. I promise to be on my best behavior.” Still buttoning up his cuffs, Phillip sat on the bed to watch Phineas dress, openly fascinated by the way he moved. It was rare to see such composure and agility in someone of his build and stature. 

Seemingly oblivious to the scrutiny, Phineas got out his phone and called for his car. “Huh. Two minutes away. So much for long goodbyes.” He gave Phillip a kiss so brief that it was a memory the moment it happened. “See you around.”

Phillip walked Phineas to the door, giving him a squeeze of the hand before he left. “See you. And... thanks.”

“I didn't do it only for you.” Phineas held Phillip’s hand for a second more, and then headed out.


	10. I Miss You

The momentum of the morning lasted well into the latter half of the day. Since Phillip was already awake and dressed, he figured he would go on one of those infrequent and sorely needed excursions to the grocery store. He was fairly certain that whatever Phineas had managed to find earlier, it was the last of its kind, and didn’t want to present quite such a sorry sight the next ti-- Well, he wouldn’t think about that just yet. But, still, it wouldn’t hurt to get, say, a spatula and some measuring cups. Maybe some pancake mix. Phineas struck him as a pancake person. Farmhouse buttermilk, whole wheat blend, or pumpkin? He couldn’t be absolutely sure yet, so bought them all to be safe. 

By the time he had finished stowing all his purchases and arranging oranges and grapes in a wicker basket on the counter, it was time for yet another teleconference with the production team of his latest project. It didn't fill him with the same sense of dread that those meetings usually did, though. All he had to do was recall the sonorous lilt of Phineas' voice from the night before --  _ "Sounds like you need a more understanding producer."  _ \-- and his mind went careening down through a winding series of memories that left him feeling pleasantly flushed and uncharacteristically intrepid. 

Two hours later, he had actually managed to talk the producers, the very same ones who had been steadily chipping away at every last original word he'd written, into reinstating two scenes and offering a “we’ll think about it” to his alternate ending. He broke out a bottle of brandy to celebrate, then thought twice, put it back in its wooden cabinet, and ordered delivery from his favorite dimsum restaurant instead. 

The next morning, he made a mostly successful attempt to wake before the clock hit double digits. Wandering into the kitchen, he cast a wistful glance to the stove while making his morning coffee. Well, why not? It was his place, after all. Tearing open the first bag of mix his hand landed on, Phillip made his inaugural attempt at pancakes. Despite following the instructions on the back faithfully, they turned out a bit crisper than he had imagined, and the results were quickly thrown into the bin after a few bites. 

“You smell like burnt pumpkin, sweetie. Don’t tell me you had another jack-o-lantern accident.” 

Depositing her bag on the table, Anne took a seat next to him on the plump sofa he’d secured for that particular morning’s coffee date. 

“No, I did not,” Phillip replied stiffly. “Thank you for your concern, Miss Wheeler. And as you said, that particular incident was completely unintentional. How was I supposed to know candle wicks needed to be cut? Or that pumpkins were so flammable?”

“Common sense, probably. Watching you race outside and hurl that thing into the quad fountain like a vegetable Molotov cocktail was priceless, though.” 

Phillip pointedly took a big bite of his bakery-perfect blueberry muffin and declined to comment further. 

If he checked his phone a little more than average that day, it wasn’t enough that anybody else would have noticed, he was certain.

Evening found him feeling uninterested in the usual nocturnal forays, so he curled up on the sofa and watched Netflix until he fell asleep, not waiting for a 2AM call that never came.

Neither did it come the evening after that. Two days was nothing, he reminded himself, trying to ignore the familiar sinking sensation. 

The next evening arrived, accompanied with more silence and a profound craving for greasy comfort food. The thought sparked a memory — how could he have forgotten? — and he quickly dialed for a car, giving it an address. So it was that four nights later, Phillip found himself once again arriving at a certain small pizza joint with a dim back booth and, hopefully, a box of frolicking puppies in the alley.

In a stroke of luck, the puppies were there, romping around while their mother sat in their box watching on. With the help of a couple boxes of sausage biscuits purchased from the restaurant, Phillip was soon accepted by the entire family and sat happily scritching ears and stroking bellies for a good half hour. Just as he was coercing the mother into a makeshift harness made from his jacket and belt -- since surely they would all be happier in his apartment than on the street? -- a car pulled up behind him.


	11. I Know Places

When Phineas got home the morning after the gala, he spent a full ten minutes staring at his computer. Part of it might well be ascribed to his having forgotten where the power button was — he hadn’t touched it in nearly a year — but most of it was just down to lingering trepidation over what it would show him. The impulse to look had awoken the night before, reaching the point of full blown compulsion by morning, as scenes and characters he’d long ago buried stirred back to life in his imagination, embers throwing off sparks in his somnolent mind. 

Gathering his courage, he booted up the dusty machine and started reading the script. He hated basically all of it, that much hadn’t changed, but he could finally see now how it might be fixed. 

Hesitantly at first, then with growing certainty as the words started coming back to him, he got to work. Time held little meaning when he got this absorbed in a task; Max’s insistent whines and nudges marked meal times and exercise breaks, but little else could dislodge him from his seat, let alone his apartment. From time to time, usually when certain names were mentioned on the screen, he did think of Phillip. Someone like him, though, would surely have his own amusements to keep him occupied.

It was during one of those meager breaks, while taking Max for a walk a few days later, that Phineas spotted a rambunctious piebald puppy crawling over its doting owner with all the consideration that one might give old furniture. The puppy, a small part of his mind noted, looked somewhat similar to the ones at the pizza place. He felt a sudden pang of guilt, upon realizing he had never called the rescue operation to check up on them. Resolving to rectify his oversight, he dropped Max off at home and caught a cab back to the restaurant.

By the time Phineas spotted Phillip’s turned back in the dark alley, he had already paid off the driver and gotten out of the car. Abruptly realizing that he wasn’t quite ready to see him again, yet too late to make an escape, he cleared his throat to get Phillip's attention. “You got a plan for what to do with her when you get her?”

Phillip momentarily froze upon hearing the familiar voice, oddly magnified by the enclosing brick walls. With slow, gentle movements, he continued what he was doing without responding, perhaps stalling for time. He managed to loop the last bit of fabric around the dog's right front leg, and he placed her gently in the box with the puppies. Hefting the entire box, he turned to face Phineas. 

“What I'd hoped had already been done, I guess. Give them a warm home, feed them, get them looked at by the doctor. I have room and don't mind the company.”

“Bring them to mine,” Phineas said impulsively. “I've got food for them and a bunch of Max's old stuff.”

A moment of hesitation as Phillip considered the dogs, then finally met Phineas’ eyes. “Are you sure? I wouldn't want to impose.”

“I let them down once already. It's the least I can do.” Phineas flagged the taxi driver, who was still waiting for his next fare.

“...Okay. But only because they don't look like they'd appreciate a diet of coffee grounds.” Phillip sighed, mentally berating himself for the way his heart had leapt into his throat at the offer. It was just common sense, of course, nothing else. 

A few minutes passed as Phineas, dangling the offer of a premium fare, came to an agreement with the driver. Transportation secured, he helped Phillip get the dogs settled in the back seat of the cab, then climbed in. 

Keeping one arm in the box with the puppies to soothe them, Phillip tried not to notice how warm and solid Phineas felt pressed up against his side. “For what it's worth,” he offered, “I didn't remember until today either. And only because I wanted pizza.”

“It's all right. We'll get it taken care of.” Phineas looked at Phillip's turned profile for a moment, then added, “You look good, you know.”

Phillip glanced down at his thrown-together outfit of jeans, sweater and peacoat with a snort. ”Right, so we can cross personal stylist off your list of prospective career options.”

“You look better out of your clothes anyway,” Phineas remarked. 

“Says the man who looks like he modeled for the Elgin Marbles,” Phillip muttered, furious at himself for blushing. 

“Please. There's a reason you generally find me behind the camera.”

“Maybe I should write something just to change that, then.”

“You're too kind, but I'm much too shy for that.” Phineas could tell that Phillip was warming up to him again and was, quite frankly, amazed that he could have that kind of effect on someone so handsome and glamorous. Knowing he was probably taking advantage of his power, but not being able to help pushing it further, he set a hand on Phillip's thigh. “What kinds of things would you have me do?”

A thoughtful hum as Phillip mulled over the possibilities, amused despite himself. “Perhaps a Greek war epic. Heavy on the poetry, less so on the costumes. Or perhaps a romance on the Scottish moors. You'd do justice to a kilt.”

“If I wrote for you, it would probably just be porn.” Phineas let his hand inch further up Phillip’s leg.

Losing the fight for composure, Phillip started laughing. “It's a booming market, I hear, but I'd be very picky about my costars”

Phineas cracked a smile in spite of himself. “I'm sure you'd have your choice.”

Phillip was quiet for a moment, weighing the press of Phineas’ hand on his leg against the indignity of being ghosted. At least he said, “You never called.” He shifted slightly in the cramped space so that he could face Phineas, causing Phineas’ insinuating hand to brush adjacent areas.

Never one to back down from a challenge, Phineas took the invitation and palmed Phillip through his jeans. “Sorry. I have a good reason, if you'd believe it.”

Phillip’s eyes fluttered closed momentarily at the contact, searing even through the thick fabric. He looked up at Phineas through half-lowered lashes. “I probably shouldn't, but I believe you.”

“I can prove it when we get back to my place,” Phineas promised.”Maybe after we take care of some more pressing business, though.”


	12. Iris

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: There's a bit of puppies in the beginning and a bit of character development going on, but this is definitely a smut chapter. Just so ya know.

“Okay, wait just a sec.” Holding on to Max by the collar, Phineas readied himself. For what, he wasn’t completely sure, but he would be keeping a close eye on the proceedings all the same. “All right. Let them out.”

Phillip set the box down on its side and watched as the puppies came tumbling out in a wriggling pile. Their more cautious mother followed. Max flattened his ears back for about a second, then gave a yip and started wagging his tail in excitement. 

Seeing no signs of aggression, Phineas gave Max a little slack so he could run over and meet his new friends. “Looks like he could use some company, too,” he said with a sigh of relief. 

“You've got a full house now,” Phillip remarked. They watched the dogs play for a while longer. The entire family of strays looked like dwarves next to Max, and none of them seemed to mind at all.

“It might be a bit much for me, but the little ones are too young to leave their mother. I'll take care of them for a few more weeks and then start looking for good homes.” Sliding an arm around Phillip, Phineas asked, “So which one do you want?”

Phillip took his time contemplating the litter, leaning into Phineas as if his proximity was magnetic. “I think I'll have to get to know them better before deciding. Wouldn't want to have a conflict of personality. Maybe I need to come over and get acquainted  _ at least  _ a few more times.”

“That's pretty prudent.” Phineas’ hand roamed down Phillip's back to cup his ass. “Though we'd better let Max get used to them first. It might take a little time.”

“Hmm. Maybe you can give me a thorough tour of your place now.”

Phineas gave the puppies one last glance. They were happily climbing all over a very patient Max. “Step this way” he indicated. “Let me get you a drink.”

“Whatever you're having will be fine.”

The fridge was stocked with plenty of drinks, if not much else. Phineas grabbed a couple of beers, popped the tops off, and handed one over. “What should we drink to?”

A long moment went by while Phillip tapped the bottle with a finger in thought before raising it. “To finding a place to call home.”

“Well put, kid,” Phineas said, a little taken aback. He drank his beer.

“So what is this super secret project that has kept you from seeing the light of day for most of the week?” Phillip glanced around for signs of telltale activity. 

“I'll show you, I promise, but first I need something to steady my nerves.” Phineas tilted his chin back, an invitation to come closer.

Setting aside his drink and sidling up, Phillip ran his hands along Phineas’ arms until they met behind his neck. “Funny, you do the exact opposite to my nerves.”

Phineas took another deep drink of his beer before setting it down. He deliberately took his time so that he could watch Phillip squirm a little as he waited. Fitting his hands around Phillip's waist, he traced his hip bones with his thumbs, then circled around the back to squeeze his ass. “I like how your voice gets so tight and hoarse when you're waiting to get fucked,” Phineas said, his own voice barely more than a rumble.

A loud intake of breath. Phillip pushed back into Phineas’ hands, almost in challenge. “Don't you know it's bad manners to keep a guest waiting?”

“Then let me continue the tour,” Phineas said, with a tone of the utmost courtesy. He gestured towards the bedroom. Ushering Phillip in, he shut the door behind them to make certain there would be no canine interruptions. “Did you like when I was in charge last time?” 

Phillip nodded without reservation. “It was good. Though... you're the only one who's asked. I…” He seemed to struggle a bit with phrasing, before settling on, “Well, usually there isn't much conversation in general, I guess you'd say.”

Taking in the meaning behind the words, Phineas sighed. “Sorry. I can't imagine anyone treating you badly. Though I guess I did ghost you, so I don't exactly have the moral high ground.” Rather than try to excuse himself further, he pulled Phillip into a hug. 

“It's nothing that dire. They're upfront about what they want, and it just usually doesn't require using my mouth for speaking.” Although he spoke the words casually enough, the way Phillip buried himself in Phineas’ arms, as if to memorize the feeling for a rainy day, conveyed otherwise. “I'm good at it when it suits my purposes.”

“You ever want anything more, though?”

“Sometimes. That's what bars are for.”

“Not exactly what I meant.” Phineas brushed his lips over Phillip’s temple. He spoke slowly, as if choosing each word as he reached it. “I don't think I'm quite drunk enough for this, but here goes: You're the first person since my wife died who I've wanted to take a chance on. If you're just looking for a diversion, then that's fine, and no hard feelings, but I wanted to be clear before this goes any further.”

“You are just about the complete opposite of anyone I've ever found ‘diverting’.” Phillip reached out a tentative hand to brush Phineas’ cheek. “That’s probably a good thing. I don't know what this is, exactly, but please know that you mean more than that. Nobody has ever taken over my thoughts the way you have.”

“Well, hell. That's good to know.” Turning his head, Phineas kissed the tips of Phillip's fingers.

“I'm glad you're taking a chance, even more so that it's with me, and would never do anything to betray that.” Phillip kissed Phineas softly on the cheek and nuzzled the faint lines, etched from countless smiles gone by, betraying a happier past. 

“Let's give this thing a shot, then,” Phineas said, recovering his confidence. Or, perhaps more accurately, the illusion of it. He started peeling off Phillip's sweater. He was aided in the endeavor by a very willing Phillip, with a pair of faded jeans hitting the pile soon thereafter. A moment’s hesitation and some impatient tugging on Phillip’s part, then Phineas pulled his own shirt over his head. Its loss made him feel nervous and vulnerable. 

Exploring Phineas’ chest with his hands, Phillip looked thrilled to finally have the chance to touch it without the barrier of clothing. He traced his nails over the swells and valleys; it was amazing how something that looked so sculpted could feel so alive. A trail of kisses from the center of Phineas’ chest up one side of his neck. “Magnificent,” he whispered. He nipped Phineas’ ear by way of punctuation. 

Phineas shivered, the light caresses sending goosebumps up his arms. “That feels good…” He slipped Phillip's underwear over his hips, freeing his cock, and closed a hand around it. Giving a long stroke, he passed the hollow of his hand over the head.

“Aaahh…” Phillip gasped, clinging to Phineas’ back. His legs suddenly couldn’t support his own weight as well as they should have. “Yesss.”

They made their way over to the bed, Phineas doing the majority of the moving. He prodded Phillip onto the mattress, watching entranced as Phillip twisted his body around with pliant grace, then unzipped his own jeans and let them drop to the floor. “Get on your hands and knees,” he ordered. “I want to try something.”

Although he crawled forward on the mattress obligingly, Phillip craned his head back over one shoulder to watch Phineas step out of his clothes.

“You look a little tense,” Phineas commented. He ran a hand up the back of Phillip's thigh, teasing him with a light touch. Upon reaching Phillip's backside, he drew back a little, then landed a slap, just enough to elicit a gasp. “What can we do to help you relax?”

Phillip let his head drop between his shoulders. He took a deep breath to force the quaver out of his voice. “Touch me. Please.”

Perhaps just as nervous, but doing a much better job of hiding it, Phineas worked up some spit before bending to kiss Phillip on the small of the back. He trailed his lips down towards the tailbone. 

Phillip twitched at the unexpected contact. He held stock still and took shallow breaths as he concentrated on charting Phineas' movements with senses other than sight. 

Bracing Phillip's hip with his hands, Phineas moved lower, running his tongue up the cleft, then teasing around the tight ring of muscle. 

Legs trembling from sensations both light and maddening, Phillip couldn’t help a quiet moan as Phineas worked. “Oh God, are you...?”

Phineas pulled back, passing the back of his hand over his mouth. He gave Phillip’s ass another slap, and immediately went back, tonguing into him.

The sting distracted from the subsequent breaching, which nearly made Phillip bite his own tongue in surprise. “...You are. Christ that shouldn't feel so good.”

It ought to feel pretty damn good, Phineas thought indignantly, considering all the work he was putting into it. The fact that Phillip was still capable of speech was something he would have to remedy. 

“Which part?” he asked. “This?” He gave Phillip’s ass a hard slap. “Or...?” He followed up with an equally forcible lick, then continued alternating between the two.

“Yes!” Phillip wailed, arms giving out. “That's incredible, please don't stop, God, yes…” His head sank down to rest on his arms and he struggled to maintain a presenting pose without pushing backwards. The glowing warmth from the blows and the slick heat of Phineas' tongue combined to drive away all reason, half his speech garbled into the mattress. 

The sound of Phillip's pleading voice went straight to Phineas’ crotch, his cock getting almost unbearably hard. He reached down with his free hand to stroke himself a few times while he continued to rim Phillip. Finishing up with one final slap, harsher than the last, he leaned back to admire the red marks now marring once-pale flesh. “Ready for more?”

With a breath that almost ended in a sob, Phillip nodded. 

Kneeling up on the bed from behind, Phineas took Phillip gently by the hair and pulled him back onto his knees, shoulder blades pressed against Phineas’ chest. His other hand kept hold of Phillip’s throat, forcing him to arch his back and jut his hips forward. “Is that for me?” he asked, reaching down to stroke Phillip's erection.

“Yes. Please,” Phillip whimpered, straining for more. 

Not needing any further urging, Phineas grasped hold of his cock and guided it into Phillip. It slid in easily. “Christ…”

Phillip moaned loudly at finally being claimed. He clenched tight around Phineas, not wanting him to draw back out. 

“You're so hot…” Moving inside him in slow, steady strokes, Phineas’ hand closed around Phillip's cock to stroke him in time. 

Phillip writhed against Phineas, consumed by need. He leaned his head backwards, searching for something to latch onto as his hands dug into Phineas’ thighs.

Surprised by such an undeniable display of eagerness, Phineas sat back on his heels and let Phillip set the pace. “That's right,” he encouraged. “Ride it.”

Rising and sinking at a vigorous tempo, Phillip rode Phineas for all he was worth. He couldn’t deny that he had been waiting for this since the morning they had parted several days ago. Something fell into place when they were together; he’d craved it the minute he was alone again. All his reservations melted away now, and he felt gratified in a way that no other encounter had ever come close to. 

Phineas let Phillip work himself into a frenzy, entranced by the movement of the muscles in his back, the sheen of sweat on his neck. When he knew he couldn’t hold out anymore, he grabbed Phillip by the waist and pulled him down hard, coming inside him with a groan. Feeling Phineas bury himself deep, swelling and throbbing in release, was all Phillip needed to surrender as well, climax sweeping him away with a strangled cry.

Bracing himself against the wall, Phineas managed to keep them both from falling off the bed. He held tight as Phillip bucked against him. “Jesus, kid…”

Moments later, Phillip melted back against Phineas, spent and boneless. “Hmm. 'Mrelaxed now.”

“Want to get some rest? I'm going to check on the pups, then I'll be back to keep you company.” Cradling him close, Phineas settled Phillip into the pillows. 

Phillip snuffled against Phineas' neck. “I'll keep your place warm.”

“Thanks, babe.” With a quick kiss, Phineas slipped out of the bed. 

A cursory glance into the guest bedroom confirmed that the dogs were still getting along fine, all curled together for the night in a large pile of variegated fur. On his way back through the living room, Phineas’ eyes swept past his laptop and... a quick glimpse to keep the ideas flowing wouldn't hurt, he reasoned. One hand absentmindedly patted around for the reading glasses he always kept next to his mouse. He sat down and scrolled through a few pages of his script, stopping occasionally to fine tune a line or two...

Snuggled into Phineas’ sheets, lulled by the comforting scent of musk and cologne that still clung to them, Phillip lingered in a newfound sense of security that he did not have the presence of mind to examine or question. He dozed off swiftly.


	13. Chasing Cars

Some time later, possibly just before dawn, judging by the faint lightening of the sky in the window, Phillip stirred to find himself the sole occupant of a bed that was clearly not his own. Winding a sheet around him, he wandered out into the living room in search of the bed’s owner. He was easy enough to locate — all Phillip had to do was follow the single source of light in the darkened apartment, emanating from a laptop screen.

A few feet away, Phillip paused and cleared his throat. Phineas seemed utterly oblivious to everything but his work. When no reaction was forthcoming, Phillip shuffled forward, making as much noise as possible, sheet trailing behind him with a rustle. He placed a careful hand on Phineas’ shoulder. 

Despite all attempts to warn him, Phineas was startled. In fact, he seemed confused as to why Phillip was even there for a moment, staring up at him owlishly through spectacles that had slid down to perch at the tip of his nose. A look of recognition thankfully appeared soon thereafter. “Sorry, kid. You weren't waiting long, were you?”

Phillip started to shake his head, then shrugged instead. “I honestly can't say. Pretty sure I fell asleep right after you left. What time is it?” Concern flitted across his face. “Are you okay? You must have been up all night.”

“Yeah. I was just finishing something.” Phineas looked down at the clock on his laptop. “Did you need anything?”

“Me? No…” Phillip’s words trailed off as he looked over at the screen, curiosity getting the better of him. He leaned into Phineas’ back, hands resting on both shoulders as he skimmed a few lines. “...is that a treatment?”

The window was quickly minimized.

“Is that what you've been working on?”

“I haven't worked on anything in a while,” Phineas dissembled. He rose quickly and ushered Phillip away from the computer.

A protest started to form, and just as quickly died. “Okay, if you say so,” Phillip agreed, playing along. 

“Let's go back to bed,” Phineas suggested, leading them towards the bedroom. “Or... do you have to go?”

“At this hour? I can't remember the last time I've been up this early except to make a fast esc-- No. Nowhere especially.” Although he was pretty sure it was a distraction, Phillip couldn’t seem to resist anything said in that coaxing, oiled sandpaper voice.

“You're welcome as long as you want.”

Phillip blinked, the openhanded offer causing something to twist in his gut. “...thanks. I'd like to stay a little longer.” He crawled back into bed, pulling Phineas along by the hand. “You need to rest, too.”

“I guess you're right,” Phineas accepted, climbing in with him. 

Phineas’ back was conveniently accessible and Phillip took advantage of that fact. His hands slid up to rest lightly on broad shoulders, experimentally rubbing at the nape with his thumbs. “Christ, no wonder you can't relax,” he remarked. 

“I prefer to keep moving forward. If I relax, I slow down.”

Digging in with more pressure, Phillip kneaded the tense spots bunching up Phineas’ shoulders and upper back. “Sometimes you need to slow down to move forward,” he reflected. “I guarantee that speeding around a sharp curve is the best way to spin out.”

“Hell, I've just been going in circles for a while now anyway,” Phineas sighed. 

“Why circles, if I may ask?” Phillip had to remind himself to not let up on the massage, now that they were finally getting to an interesting subject. 

“Phil... are you sure you want to go down this road? I thought you were tired.” Phineas’ query sounded more like a statement than a question, a last attempt to avoid a conversation that would no doubt change how Phillip would perceive him. 

“I'm not the one that stayed up all night,” Phillip countered. He smoothed his hands over Phineas’ shoulders, as if to smooth ruffled feathers. “And... I want to know you.”

“I was working on something. I thought I might even make a good movie, for once. I had the funding squared away, but then something happened and it fell through.” Phineas paused, still deliberating over how much should be left unsaid. “It's okay, though. I'm starting over.”

Phillip nodded agreeably, watching the vast tracts of redacted information in Phineas’ story zoom by. “It must have happened a while ago. Nobody's heard from you for years.”

“As long as the money holds out, I don't really have to do much. Maybe that's the problem.”

“You seem to be doing something now, though.”

“It's probably nothing. I doubt I'll even keep it when I reread it in the morning.”

“It looked longer than nothing.” Phillip moved to face Phineas. “Can I... Would you let me read it?”

A moment of pure panic seized Phineas. “I don't know. It's pretty rough…” he blustered. 

The side of Phillip’s mouth quirked up. “I promise I'll be gentle.”

“I guess I owe it to you,” Phineas relented, after a thoughtful silence. “Wait here.”

The laptop was placed in Phillip’s lap moments later. “I'll go start some coffee.” Phineas was back out the door before he even finished his sentence, not wanting to be present to see what happened next. Phillip watched him leave with a pang of understanding. He dove into the document, now as apprehensive as he was fascinated.

\--

“If that was nothing, your idea of something must be mind-blowing,” Phillip commented. He set the laptop down at the kitchen table about an hour later, still looking a bit dazed. 

Phineas got up to fetch Phillip a coffee, having already had plenty of time to make a pot, feed the dogs, drink a cup himself, and mull over possible reactions to his writing in painstaking detail. “Stories like that don't sell,” he muttered. “I know it as well as anyone.”

A shrug of ambivalence. “Have you tried yet?”

“I'll try anything once.” Phineas set a ceramic cup decorated with pastel unicorns in front of Phillip. 

“Right, then. Pitch it to me,” Phillip suggested. 

“I mean, I already did try. I tried with everything I had. It didn't get me anywhere. I'm better off sticking with off-brand slasher movies. That’s what I know best.”

Phillip took a long sip of coffee, gears turning in his head as he watched Phineas try to explain everything away under the rug. “Please don't give up on it,” he urged.

“Look, Phil…” A weary sigh. “You're really sweet to care. But I think it's just something I have to get on the page. Once it's out of me, I can finally put it behind me.”

“If that's what you need to do,” Phillip conceded, perhaps a little too easily. “I'm familiar enough with the feeling.” 

“I've almost finished it before, but there's a part I can never quite get past…” Phineas opined.

“I'm listening,” Phillip prompted, leaning in. 

Phineas hesitated a second, then shrugged. “I have a hard time talking about my flaws. Wouldn’t you know, I do have a few of them.”

A quiet sputter of laughter. “I refuse to believe it. Though I suppose for the sake of good storytelling you can make some up.” Phillip nudged his shoulder lightly. 

“Yeah…” If Phineas appeared a little crestfallen at how lightly his words were taken, it didn’t show for long. 

Phillip looked at the time on his phone, a move that was supposed to appear casual but spectacularly missed the mark. He had an idea -- a plan, even -- and he was about as good at hiding his excitement as the puppies in the next room. “Well…. I actually just remembered that I need to meet someone for lunch, so should probably get home and change. You probably need some peace and quiet to work out those details, anyway.” He paused to take a breath, thinking for a second. “Maybe I can come by tomorrow? Bring you dinner?”

“Sure. You can plan to spend the night again. If you want to provide me with inspiration, that is.”

The look that offer inspired made the kitchen briefly feel like midday rather than sunrise. “That can most certainly be arranged,” Phillip acquiesced, giving Phineas a kiss on the forehead. 

Just as Phillip had managed to make his way to the door, Phineas put a hand on his arm. 

“Kid… Check your messages later if you get a chance. I'm going to send you something you should see.” 

“Okay yeah sure?” Phillip agreed, puzzled as to why the request sounded so urgent. He already knew better than to question Phineas about such things, though. With a kiss goodbye, Phillip hurried off to start what had surprisingly turned out to be a very full day.


	14. A Change is Gonna Come

"Hey, D, how tall are you?"

"Taller than you could ever hope to be. Don't believe those spam emails, you're not getting another growth spurt, my bite-sized friend."

"It's a legitimate question. I need a favor."

"Which is why you're calling me and not my sister. Curse my bewitching good looks and soft heart. What do you want now?"

"I have an… acquaintance. He could use a little wardrobe update for an important meeting. I think he's about your size."

"And you're asking me instead of taking him to Barneys because…"

"I don't think he's ready to be seen shopping with me yet."

" _ Yet _ , the boy says, with the rare hint of future intent. I'm fascinated and must see this new project immediately."

"Great! Monday morning?"

"I can make that work. Bring back that jacket you borrowed the other week, too."

"Right, about that…"


	15. I Will Follow You into the Dark

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: The first half is heavy on the plot. The second half is heavy on the smut. We would like to think we are doing pretty okay with character development in both.

Precisely at 8PM the next evening, Phillip stood at Phineas’ front door with a large picnic hamper and a bottle of wine. He shifted from foot to foot in excitement. It had been something of a miracle, involving every ounce of charm he could dredge up, to make it all happen as fast as it had. The look on Phineas’ face, he figured, would be more than worth the effort. He rang the doorbell and heard the sound of footfalls near. 

As soon as he opened the door, Phineas knew that Phillip had not read the articles he had sent. He had been dreading this moment, and now found its postponement just as beleaguering. “...Hey,” he managed.

“Hey to you too,” chirped Phillip, bustling in. He started to unpack the hamper on the kitchen counter. “I hope you're hungry because I brought a lot. Including some surpri-- Is something wrong?” Upon looking up briefly, Phillip finally caught Phineas’ distracted look. 

“Huh?” Phineas, to his credit, recovered quickly. "Everything is fine." He underscored his statement with a casual slap to Phillip's ass. "Looks great."

With a perplexed shake of the head, Phillip went back to sorting takeout boxes. “I tried to follow a recipe I found online but it turned out sort of overdone so I got fajitas instead. There's a place that does them with Korean barbecue not far from here--”

Although Phineas was only half listening, his well-timed nods and agreeable hums seemed to be enough to get them through the rest of the meal. Right up until Phillip brandished the champagne bottle. 

“And this,” Phillip declared, working at the cork with a bottle opener, “Is to celebrate.”

Phineas snapped back to full attention, looking a little bit lost. “What are we celebrating?”

“Your meeting with the head of a major studio. Rita Schaffer? She’s interested in your script?” Phillip stopped fussing with the bottle and set it aside, watching Phineas closely. 

“...Excuse me?”

Figuring that Phineas’ underwhelming enthusiasm was probably due to a need for further explanation, Phillip pulled out his phone and showed Phineas the text he had received last night. “I might have pulled a few strings. But she really wants to see you and hear more. I'll be there too, of course.”

Phineas rose from the table and paced around it. He looked agitated. “I didn't ask you to do this.”

“No, and I'm sorry for not running it by you first. You just seemed so certain it was impossible that I wanted to give you a concrete answer to the contrary.” The longer Phineas avoided looking at him, the more Phillip felt a need to talk and fill the tense silence. “Oh hey, you sent some stuff too, that's right. I meant to read that but was running around with the calls and the food--” Phillip clicked the link on Phineas’ message.

Moving with abrupt speed and intent, Phineas reached over and grabbed Phillip’s hand before he could read anything. “I was trying to protect you,” he explained, sounding almost apologetic.

“Hmm? From what?” Phillip looked up from the screen, slightly concerned by Phineas’ strange behavior. Not getting any further answers, he resumed skimming the first headline and nodded at the phone. “Looks like you did a lot of research.”

Just as hastily, Phineas released Phillip. “I'll take care of the dishes. You read that, and then tell me if you still want to run my life.” He headed for the kitchen without waiting for a response. 

Baffled but curious, Phillip nodded and continued scrolling. As the minutes passed, he became increasingly more quiet, more still, absorbed by the articles he was reading and deeply troubled by their implications. 

They told the story of an explosion on an oil drilling platform in the North Sea. Of the 200 workers on the rig, 170 had gone down with it. The platform, the drill, all the machinery, was written off as a loss. A hundred million gallons of oil spilled into the ocean. 

Phillip wracked his brain. He could remember the incident, barely. He’d only been a kid when it had happened, but the images he’d seen on television of the burning pillar of the oil rig jutting up out of the black water had left an indelible mark on his memories. Strange, though, he’d never heard anyone talk about it in years...

After almost an hour, Phillip put down the phone. He sat motionless, staring at the counter, hands clasped over his head as if to stop the thoughts and emotions twisting about inside it. 

As if he had expected this reaction all along, Phineas chose that moment to return. He sat down beside Phillip with a sigh. “I'm sorry, kid. I didn't mean to snap at you earlier.”

Phillip did not look up. Almost timidly, he asked, “Your name is in there. It's not just a story is it?”

“They…” Phineas’ brow furrowed as he spoke, all the frustration bubbling back to the surface. “They made it sound like we deserved it. Like it was their fault, those people who died. It wasn't like that.”

“I believe you. Nobody deserves that. And... I'm sorry. It was stupid to run off without knowing more.” Phillip shook his head, mortified that Phineas must think him utterly callous after such behavior. 

"You need to know something," Phineas continued. "I signed an agreement. I took a payoff. It was enough for tuition at NYU. I knew the truth, and I kept their secrets."

The tone of self-reproach in that last statement made Phillip raise his head. "Then why write about it now?"

Phineas faltered, not entirely certain how much more he should share. "I tried before. Something happened--"

"You mean there's more." 

"I'll sound crazy if I say it."

Reaching out a hand to place over Phineas' larger clasped ones -- had some of the faded scars on them come from that unthinkable event? -- Phillip tried to convey through his gaze how much he wanted to help lighten the load Phineas carried. "I wouldn't call anything you say crazy. It all rings too true."

"I found a backer before. He said that if I did five films for him, he'd finance one of mine. They were all crap. Sequels to reboots to remakes of movies about board games. But I gave them my all. I did four films. I was working on the fifth and we'd already started pre-production on mine. But something happened on set--" Phineas' voice practically choked off for a moment. His eyes looked off into the distance, as if watching another day's events.

Although Phillip nodded in encouragement, he couldn't help feeling a prickle of dread. This was what Phineas had been avoiding the whole time. Now that they were here, Phillip wasn't so certain he really wanted to know. The words kept coming, though, and there was no stopping them anymore.

"Some stupid stunt. She was supposed to jump through a glass window. It was that specialty stuff they make for movies, supposed to break clean, with no sharp edges. She said it sounded like fun, and she'd always wanted to try doing her own stunts... But when she went through the window, it just exploded. It was inside her. There was blood everywhere." A long pause followed. When Phineas spoke again, it was barely a whisper. 

"I signed off on the stunt. It was my call."

As the events and dates fell into place, Phillip realized what Phineas was trying to say. He grew even more horrified that all this could have happened to one person. "Christ. That was your--"

"It was just a stupid mistake. The stunt coordinator didn't swap out the real glass for the fake. That was the story. But... Phil, I don't know. I can't shake the feeling that someone was trying to warn me not to do what I was about to do with my film." 

Phillip squeezed Phineas' hand gently in understanding. "It's normal to feel like it was your fault, but that couldn't have been anything but a freak accident. We've both been on enough sets to know how hectic they can get sometimes."

" ...yeah. Maybe." Still looking shaken, Phineas took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "But you don't have to fight this battle with me. It might be bad."

A stubborn shake of the head was Phillip's immediate and vehement response. "On the contrary, it sounds like you could use as many allies as you can get."

Phineas' brow furrowed in thought. "No. No, I'm sorry. I never should have showed you this. Look, I'll meet with your producer, if that's what you want. I'll go back to making movies if you think that would make you happy. But I'm not touching that script again."

"I can still cancel if you want," Phillip offered. "But I think you should at least sleep on it and hear her out before making any decisions. It sounds like a story that needs to be told, and only you can tell it."

"If I live long enough," Phineas muttered.

An exasperated sigh. "Hey. I believe you but I also believe  _ in _ you." Phillip squeezed Phineas' hands again by way of emphasis. "That you can find a way to get through, if any of this is to have any meaning beyond being an unfortunate tragedy. And I want to help any way I can."

"You've done more than enough already--" Phineas protested.

"Besides, the producer is sort of family and she is expecting me to do the introductions and help monitor the project, I'm pretty sure."

This bit of information gave Phineas pause. "So this is nepotism?"

Phillip made a noncommittal expression, brow wrinkling as he tried to explain. "Not exactly. My godmother is one of the few people who actually supports my projects. She just thinks I might be onto something. She's a gatekeeper, but we would still need to do all the footwork to get it off the ground."

"I'm going to tell her everything I just told you," Phineas declared. "So decide now how crazy you want to seem by association."

"I'm pretty sure she'd think the way we met was crazier."

"Well, they do say the crazy ones are the best in bed," Phineas countered.

The shift in tone struck even Phillip as a tad suspicious, but it wasn’t as if he was any stranger to hiding his true feelings behind a wink and smile. He decided to play along for the moment.

"I believe that the scientific method requires that such statements be made only with reproducible results. I would need at least three observations to formulate a hypothesis."

Phineas rolled his eyes, fondly exasperated. "So do you want to fuck me this time, or what?"

A beat of silence. "I thought you'd never ask." Phillip raised Phineas' hand and gave it an almost courtly kiss. Slipping off his stool, he headed in the direction of the bedroom, Phineas in tow. His fingers were already busy at Phillip’s collar, tugging at buttons.

Phillip brushed Phineas’ hands away and worked the buttons loose himself at a much more leisurely pace. “Let's continue the theme of the evening. Go off script and into new territory.” He pushed the wrinkled blue fabric down off of Phineas’ shoulders and kissed his exposed neck. Fantasies of tasting every inch of his sculpted form had swarmed Phillip’s mind over the past few days. Now seemed the perfect time to implement such an expedition. 

“Then how about you put me on the casting couch?” Phineas kneeled to tug at Phillip's belt, unintentionally interrupting a very thorough inspection of his own left clavicle in the process. 

With a thwarted huff, Phillip paused to step out of his trousers. “Horribly uncomfortable and cramped, let me tell you from experience. Nothing but a king-sized mattress for my star.” Phillip nudged Phineas backwards onto the bed as he spoke. 

“So give me my motivation already,” Phineas prompted, kicking off his jeans. He lounged supine with one arm flung over his head, the very likeness of an impatient classical deity. 

Phillip leaned in for another kiss, nipping Phineas’ bottom lip before pulling away. “Shhh, inspiration can’t be rushed.” He resumed licking unhurriedly down one side of Phineas’ neck and along his collarbone, indulging in the occasional light bite mark along the way. The path he took angled to the left, mouth gliding over the swell of a well-defined pectoral, pausing to flick at the rosy nub he found there until it grew stiff against his tongue. 

A short detour brought him to the curiously prominent vein of Phineas' right bicep, which he nuzzled in appreciation before continuing downwards. There was something about a strong pair of arms that Phillip had always found irresistibly attractive. Be it in defense, restraint or comfort, their ability to hold one securely satisfied a deep craving that he didn’t care to examine too closely. 

“So you say, but when we're like this, my mind won't stop racing.” Phineas set a hand on the back of Phillip’s neck. “Go on,” he encouraged, pushing Phillip down towards his hardening cock.

The soft lamplight cast shadows that emphasized the rolling dips and rises as Phillip licked a long stripe down the center of Phineas’ toned abdomen. He paused to graze a hipbone with his teeth, to run fingers lightly down the inside of a thigh, still intent on admiring as much of Phineas' impossibly alluring topography as he could. 

"Hmm. If you insist." With no further warning, Phillip ducked his head the rest of the way down. Grasping Phineas' heated length with one hand, he gave it a long wet lick from base to head, savoring the scent of his arousal. The tip of Phillip's tongue played with the sensitive frenulum before swirling over top, lapping at the clear liquid forming there. He flicked his gaze upwards to meet Phineas's eyes.

Phineas gasped, trying to keep from thrusting up into Phillip's mouth. His fingers tangled in Phillip's hair instead, pulling at it. "Come on…"

Caught in the burning spotlight of Phineas's gaze, Phillip briefly lost himself in the familiarity and comfort of an act he excelled at. The bobbing and suction, the sharp tug of his hair being pulled, the soft sighs of a lover -- these things reassured him that he was wanted, had a purpose. His other hand reached down to gently massage the heavy balls below as he paused for air. Another quick glance upwards confirmed that his every move was still being watched with avid interest. Emboldened, Phillip groped for the oil on the nightstand and covered his fingers with it before experimentally reaching backwards to brush against Phineas' entrance. The hazel eyes trained on his own showed no signs of doubt, much to his relief. Without breaking eye contact, Phillip took Phineas entirely into his throat while simultaneously pushing a finger in up to the first knuckle.

Phineas tensed up briefly, surprised though he was expecting it. As if sensing the reaction, Phillip’s tentative efforts paused. After a few moments, Phineas relaxed. “Oh, Phil…”

“Is this okay?” Phillip stretched up to catch Phineas’ lips in a long kiss. Carefully - far more careful than he would have ever tolerated for himself - he resumed his preparations. While he wasn’t egotistical enough to concern himself with size comparisons, he was well aware that even someone who didn’t possess Phineas’ magnificent proportions could feel painfully substantial when starting out. This was already an occasion he’d seen rarely enough, he didn’t want to hurt one of the few men who’d given him the chance. 

“You're wonderful,” Phineas replied, his voice barely more than a rasp. He watched Phillip for a moment with wide eyes. “Did you notice I went shopping?”

Phillip glanced over at the bottle of fancy lubricant he’d tossed to the side, already a quarter emptied, and couldn’t help a small laugh. “Excellent taste.” He sat back on his heels to take in sight before him, committing every tiny detail to memory. “God, you lying there like that... it’s unreal. I keep thinking I'm going to wake up any minute.” Bracing his hands against Phineas’ thighs, he pulled them apart just enough so that he could position himself. 

Struck with an uncomfortable mixture of self-consciousness and arousal, Phillip caught Phineas’ eyes with his own again, silently asking. For what, he wasn’t entirely sure, but Phineas gave a slight nod all the same and that was enough to carry him the rest of the way. Nudging gently at first, Phillip pushed his way in, hesitation forgotten the moment he felt himself sinking into tight, slick heat. When he could go no further, he rested his forehead against Phineas’ chest, feeling the rise and fall of shallow breaths as they adjusted. 

“You have to move sometime,” Phineas finally remarked, trying to hide a little wince. He really hadn't done this in a while, but could definitely get to like how reverent Phillip was being. His legs wrapped around Phillip's hips to help him along. “Come on. It's okay.”

Nodding his agreement, Phillip took a shuddering breath and held onto Phineas's legs as he tried a few shallow thrusts. He gasped when Phineas responded to his movements with rhythmic constrictions. It felt as if he was being pulled further in with every contraction, the intensity both tantalizing and overwhelming.

Phineas moaned against Phillip's neck, then bit at his ear. “That feels great... You're doing great.”

The words of praise filled Phillip’s chest with an unexpected warmth, tinged everything with a deeper shade of gratification, spurred him to pick up his pace. Bucking forward with more momentum in each thrust, Phillip wanted nothing more than to merge entirely with what was surely paradise given human form. His conscious mind faded into the background, easily outpaced by the growing weight of desire. 

A sharp gasp escaped from Phineas when Phillip hit a spot deep inside him, sending shocks of pleasure through him. “Shit... shit. Slow down.”

It took a moment for Phillip to process what Phineas was saying. He could barely hear over the pounding in his ears and reining himself back, despite the molten heat in his belly urging him onwards, took all his remaining willpower. Panting and burying his face in Phineas’ shoulder, he forced himself to take longer, slower strokes, letting Phineas set the pace. 

“Jesus, nobody ever got me there so fast before.” Phineas pulled Phillip’s face up and kissed him hard. Taking hold of his hips, he showed Phillip how to move. “Like that…” he coaxed. 

Angling himself as indicated, Philip surged forward. His breath hitched as each fluid roll of their joined bodies brought him closer to completion. 

Phineas felt himself being pushed towards the edge again, just as quickly as before. Gasping moans poured from his slack mouth with each thrust and his fingers dug hard into Phillip's straining thighs.

No longer able to stop the inexorable spiral towards consummation, Phillip sped up again. Prickles of electricity raced down his spine and a growing tightness at his core magnified their every move. “Please,” he heard himself pleading, “just a little bit more…” Reaching down, he grasped Phineas and stroked him with burgeoning urgency. 

Feeling as if his body was burning from within, Phineas thrust up into Phillip’s hand as he bit down on a cry of pleasure. Despite his attempt, the sound was barely muffled. 

With a choked whine, Phillip buried himself as deep as he could and climaxed. His hips spasmed erratically as he spent himself, too winded to utter another sound. Seconds later, Phineas’ come spattered Phillip’s stomach with wet heat. A moan leaked from his clenched teeth and sealed lips.

Phillip collapsed limply onto Phineas’ chest, unable to do much more than grin smittenly at him for the next minute. The bliss of shared closeness immobilized him entirely, and he saw no reason to fight it.

Lifting a shaking hand to stroke Phillip’s hair, Phineas shuddered as he felt Phillip's softening cock slip out of him. “You are something..”.

“Hmmm. But enough to be inspiring?” Phillip absentmindedly started wiping them off with a corner of the sheet before snuggling in again. 

“The creative juices do seem to be flowing,” Phineas observed with a droll quirk to his mouth. He ran a hand down Phillip’s back, tracing the curve of his spine. “Is this what you're into? Quick and dirty? Just getting the job done? I'm not complaining, but…”

“I...? I don't know? What do you mean?” Phillip squinted at Phineas in confusion.

“Just that, we keep doing things my way, even when you're in charge. I want to know what you like.”

Phillip opened and closed his mouth, but only managed to draw a blank. “I know that I like you. Even if we didn't do this I would,” he finally managed.

“I like you too. And I'm sure as hell glad we're doing this.”

“I like seeing you happy,” Phillip continued. “Doing things to make that happen.”

“Kid…” Phineas looked a little overwhelmed. “I hope there's more to it than that.”

“There is,” Phillip reassured him. “But admittedly I'm still trying to figure out what. I just know that this feels right. Like I'm not missing something when I'm here.”

“That's good.” Phineas paused. “I mean, I'm glad. But just... don't get too wrapped up in me. You're still you.”

A slightly deflated nod. “Unfortunately.”

“Don't say that.” Phineas bent his head so he could offer a kiss. “You're incredible. I want you to say that.”

Phillip shook his head, the euphoria of moments ago already fading. “I haven't done a single thing to deserve saying that. I'm nothing more than a vehicle to convey a name and estate, or so I've been informed. It's easy to say when you've done so much.”

“Phillip…” Phineas seemed surprised to be hearing all of this. “Since I've known you, I've seen you rescue dogs from behind a pizza place. You went to that gala with me after talking to me for ten minutes, just because you thought I sounded lonely. You got me this meeting, for a script that isn't even finished. You've put up with all my shit, and you always end up back here, trying to understand, trying to save me from myself. I don't know why you would say that about yourself, when it's clear to anyone who bothers to look just how amazing you are…”

The last part earned him a small shrug. “I guess the puppy thing was okay. But really, who wouldn't?”

Phineas laughed, despite actually being a little disturbed seeing this side of Phillip. “You're a real piece of work, kid. Let's try something easier. Say, ‘I'm beautiful.’”

"And I do a little turn on the catwalk, right." Phillip snorted. “Isn't there a script begging for attention?”

“Oh, it's all up here.” Phineas tapped his temple. “And maybe I'll get to work on it as soon as you stop avoiding me.”

“It's not avoidance, it's deflection. You see? The nuances of language. That's beautiful.”

"It is. Say, 'I'm clever'," Phineas prompted.

“I'd feel much cleverer if you stopped trying to train me like a parrot,” Phillip quipped.

“Fine, fine.” Phineas landed another kiss on Phillip’s forehead. “But this isn't over.” Rolling Phillip off of him, he pulled on his jeans over bare skin and went to get his laptop.

“Hmmm.” Phillip sighed in relief and settled down into the covers. 

When Phineas returned with his computer and started typing, Phillip picked up his phone and scrolled through his emails. Notwithstanding his best attempts to keep Phineas company, exhaustion caught up with him halfway through reading the latest news feeds. Phineas did not notice when he fell asleep.


	16. Suit and Tie

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not sayin' we'd bribe and kill for comments, but y'know. Stranger things have happened.

“No, really, when was the last time you updated your wardrobe?” 

Instead of answering, Phineas just raised an eyebrow in Phillip’s general direction as they walked briskly through the fashion district on a drizzly Monday morning. They were making their way towards Wheeler Studio, despite Phineas seeming distinctly unenthused, for the very reason Phillip had just voiced.

“It’s a legitimate question,” Phillip continued, “considering I’ve never seen you in anything other than denim and t-shirts. Outside of that one night at the gala, that is. That was a good night.” 

There was a welcome pause, during which Phineas hoped that Phillip had gotten completely sidetracked from his line of questioning by the graphic play-by-play memories that were obviously reeling through his head. He hadn’t.

“Anyway. I’m beginning to suspect that you don’t really own any other options,” Phillip concluded. 

“I lost some weight a couple years back,” Phineas offered with a shrug. “Bought all new jeans.”

“Not quite what I meant, as much as I do appreciate a well-fitted pair of jeans. But at least they're not bootcut. Ah, here we are!” Phillip buzzed the intercom of a nondescript-looking street level warehouse entrance, then ushered them into a freight elevator that sat just inside the entryway. 

They were hoisted to the third floor with more swaying and clacking than Phineas typically liked to hear in the mechanical conveyances he rode, though he acknowledged that the intent was possibly to be fashionably dilapidated. His supposition gained further proof when they exited the lift into an industrial chic reception area framed in discolored iron pipes and dominated by a desk made from upcycled pieces of the building’s original industrial age factory signage. Phillip gestured for Phineas to follow as he made a beeline for the design studio beyond, a large bookcase stocked with trade magazines and manuals the only demarcation between the two spaces. 

A willowy young woman turned to greet them with appraising eyes, stepping away from a project that appeared to involve affixing as many coils of silk rope to a mannequin as humanly possible. Phineas hoped it was not representative of the rest of her collection. “Well, this is a pleasant surprise,” she drawled in a melodious alto with just the slightest hint of a southern accent. “Miss me already? Who’s your friend?” 

Phillip greeted her with a peck on the cheek. “Morning, Annie. I didn’t know you would be in today. This is my… um… Phi--

Before Phillip managed to stumble his way through an introduction, he was fortuitously interrupted. “Actually, they’re here to see _ me _, sister dear.” A man, with a similar build to Anne but on a larger scale, pushed past her to intercept them. Dressed in a rather flamboyant purple and gold waistcoat, he did nothing to allay Phineas’ general misgivings on the topic of modern style. The way he very obviously checked Phineas out only compounded the feeling.

“Ma’am.” Phineas gave the first sibling a firm and very business-like handshake. The second one received a polite, if wary, nod. 

Back on familiar ground, Phillip continued his introductions. “I met these two back in film school during my thesis project, when Anne signed on to be our costume designer. She used to have pink hair back then. WD here is usually the one who pulls things from the collection for last minute appearances.” He grimaced, suddenly remembering something, and muttered an aside to WD, “Sorry about that jacket, by the way.” Picking up his previous thread, Phillip continued, ”They usually come as a matched set: she designs, he styles. You'll want to dress the part once you get into the boardroom.”

Phineas still wasn’t thrilled to be there, but dealt with it. “Sure. Do what you got to do.” 

Permission granted, WD pulled out a tailor’s tape and gleefully set to work, shooting meaningful glances to his sister and Phillip as he took note of Phineas’ measurements. Something seemed to be amusing him greatly. “So,” he intoned, “How'd you meet?”

Phillip glanced over, clearly about to launch into some smoothed-over version of their first encounter. Phineas decided it was better to handle it himself. “Dog park. Kid’s an animal lover.” He gave Phillip a sharp warning look, trying to communicate his desire for privacy. 

Nodding along gamely, Phillip added, “Could we interest either of you in a puppy? Or two?”

“With these hardwood floors?” Phineas snorted in amusement.

“What does that have to do with anything? Anyway, they're small ones. Harmless. And portable!” Phillip gave Anne a nudge. “You could design dog holding purses!”

Anne rolled her eyes in response. “This is why you only wear things and have no design input, sweetie. That was over _ years _ ago.”

“It's true,” WD added, not even looking up from where he was fussing with Phineas’ ankles. “Cat backpacks are much more trendy.” He tapped Phineas on the knee to get his attention. “Would you consider yourself an autumn or a winter?”

“I was born in July. I'm not saying the year,” came Phineas’ curt response.

“Remember, D, business meeting,” Phillip admonished. “_ Subdued. _”

WD sighed. “Fine, but you're missing out on some amazing paisleys, I'm telling you.”

“Well, I do like a patterned tie…” Phineas relented.

“I've got just the--!” Anne strode off in search of something in a back room.

“Not the one with the tiny naked people, please!” Phillip shouted after her.

“He's just bitter because he didn't notice them on his shirt until it was the top article on a big fashion blog,” WD explained in a theatrical side whisper. 

“I'm sure he can handle himself…” Hearing about Phillip’s scandalous background left Phineas feeling once again a little uncomfortable, knowing that this was also the person he was counting on for his comeback.

Anne returned, a red and black patterned tie limned with golden filigree in her hands. She held it up to Phineas’ face with a pleased expression. “Oh, yeah. That'll work just fine.”

“Dream team strikes again,” WD remarked. He tapped a few more notes into a phone app, then excused himself to go rummage in the back room as well. 

Finding themselves in a conversational lull, Phineas wandered off to examine the bookshelf contents. 

“So… still have a thing for older guys, do you?” Anne whispered to Phillip. He pretended not to notice, though the corners of his mouth might have flattened just the tiniest bit.

A few more minutes elapsed before WD reappeared with several selections in a garment bag slung over his arm. “There you go, Mr. July.” He held it out with a dramatic flourish.

“Thanks guys, you're lifesavers.” Phillip seemed as relieved to be concluding their visit as Phineas felt.

“That going to be all right with you?” Phineas inquired, checking with Phillip before taking the offered wardrobe upgrades.

“Despite the way they behave, these two know what they’re doing,” Phillip assured him. They bid the Wheelers goodbye and Phillip steered them immediately towards the exit before their continued presence could be misconstrued as an invitation for a proper grilling. The siblings were obviously burning with curiosity.

While Phineas’ back was turned, Anne held up one hand in an OK sign and gave Phillip a slow wink. WD gave him a thumbs up, attentively eyeing Phineas’ posterior with obvious approval. Phillip shot them both a warning glare and pulled the elevator door shut with a resounding thud.

“Well?” asked Phineas, in the relative peace that ensued. “Am I presentable now?”

“You've always been presentable,” Phillip corrected him, tentative smile forming on his lips. “Now you're just investable.” He moved in to give Phineas a squeeze around the waist as the doors opened onto the street. 

With a quick and not particularly graceful sidestep, Phineas avoided Phillip’s arm. “Sorry, I'm not much of a hugger.”

They waited in silence under the eaves of the building for another few minutes, until the car arrived to rescue them from the tempest brewing overhead.


End file.
